


Burn the White Flag

by CoffeeJay



Category: HetaOni, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Adventure, Alcohol, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Don't be too terribly afraid of the major character death tag, Existential Angst, FACE family dynamics, Hallucinations, HetaOni - Freeform, Horror, Memory Loss, Multi, Mystery, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, The power of friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-23 10:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 47,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13188258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeJay/pseuds/CoffeeJay
Summary: With Italy gone and the key to their escape nowhere in sight, those left in the mansion struggle to hold onto hope as they search for freedom from the mysterious creatures that hunt them.





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KAi_Sage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KAi_Sage/gifts).



> Unfinished stories make me sad, so this is one attempt at tying up all the loose-ends that HetaOni left behind. This is dedicated to my best friend, who can't stand an unfinished story, either, and so dragged me into Hetalia hell with her. Gracias por eso, Tocaya. Comments and questions are always welcome! Please enjoy this labor of love.

“France?”

Canada’s voice was fragile from where he sat slumped against the wall, so delicate that France wondered if the sound waves might shatter as they echoed off the walls of their little shelter.  The past few days had been so full of adrenaline and terror that it had been all too easy to forget how painfully young Canada was in the midst of it all.  His eyes were bright but fearful, and France’s heart clenched at the sight.  

“Yes, my dear?” France asked kindly, and the other nations in the room pretended not to hear the exchange for privacy’s sake.  Germany and Japan, however, did not listen because they heard nothing past their grief.  Italy did not listen because he could not listen to anything at all.

“What do you think happens if… if we die?” Canada began, fidgeting a bit, and France’s heart broke all the more.  “Do you think it makes a difference that we’re humans here?  Would we go to wherever humans go when they die, or… or maybe our souls are still nation souls, so then… I’m not really sure what happens then, either.  And what about the versions of us from those other timelines? Do they have a place to go, or do they not even exist anymore?  Do we even exist, actually?  And what about Spain and Romano? Are they going to--”  

“Canada, breathe, please,” France insisted, kneeling at Canada’s side and placing a grounding hand on his shoulder.  The touch pulled Canada to the slow realization that he was hyperventilating, so he nodded and swallowed, focusing on getting his breathing back to normal.  “That’s right, just breathe,” France soothed as he wrapped Canada in his arms.  Tears welled up in Canada’s eyes once more.  “You just asked quite a few questions, so I’ll start with the first one.”  He felt Canada nod and took that as permission to continue.  “I have witnessed the death--or fall, or disappearance, or dissolution, whatever it is you’d like to call it-- of more than a few nations, and I can tell you that it is rarely an easy thing.  The worst part is how unnatural it feels,” France explained, tightening his hold on Canada.  “We nations have the potential to live forever, no?  So when we see the life of one like us cut short, no matter how long the life was, it stings,” France sighed.  “But you already know about that.”

“Yeah,” Canada agreed numbly.  France settled himself more comfortably beside him with a grunt, all the while keeping a warm, comforting arm around Canada’s shoulders.  

“You’re certainly not the first to wonder what happens in the great after.  Italy thinks--” France cut himself off and cleared his throat, though it was tightening with grief.  “Italy thought that everyone--nations, humans; cats, even-- everyone goes to paradise, no matter what.  He always was quite the dreamer,” France declared wistfully.    

“What do you think, then?” asked Canada, peering up at him.  “You don’t sound like you really believe that.”

France took a steadying breath.  “Please don’t misunderstand, mon cher.  I hope it is true!  More than anything I hope that little Italy’s soul is somewhere warm and breezy, somewhere he can be with… Ah, but that is not my story to tell.”  Canada was about to ask what France meant, but France only shook his head and continued.  “I have a difficult time believing that we all get to go to paradise,” he confessed.  “I like to believe that we go somewhere, but paradise seems like too large a hope for a nation like me.  I may look young and gorgeous, but history has left its mark on me, and I on it.”

“What makes you say that?”

A weary sigh escaped France’s lips.  He seemed to wrestle with the words as they left him.  “There is much blood on these hands, Canada.”  The young man winced.  “Too much.  No nation that lives for very long comes away from life clean.  Many of my people believe that your actions in this life dictate your place in the next one, so… To put it plainly, the best I hope for is a quiet place to rest before I am forgotten entirely by the world down below.  I think that maybe once the world forgets about me, I’ll truly fade away,” he said, his expression bittersweet.

Heavy silence filled the space.  From the other side of the room, England stared unseeingly in their direction, and America sat blankly there beside him doing much the same.  Neither pretended not to listen anymore.  Canada shifted uncomfortably and tried to ignore their empty stares.  “You don’t really think the world will forget about you, do you France?”

“It would certainly take a long time, I don’t deny that,” France chuckled.  “I have annoyed far too many people to be forgotten that quickly.  But others who aren’t so prominent as you and me might not be remembered for very long, don’t you think?  Though, that is neither here nor there.  What is your opinion of all this?”

“I think that I won’t know until I get there,” he stated after a pause, dissatisfied with his inability to come up with a solid answer.

“Surely you must have some idea,” France pressed.

“Well,” Canada began after some consideration.  “I think I disagree with you on one thing.”

“Oh?”

“Nations are born from a group of people, but that’s not all we are,” Canada said.  “Sure, my people do influence who I am, but I can make my own choices.  I have free will.  I’m my own person, and I don’t think that I’ll disappear just because nobody remembers who I am.”  There was a kind of heat in his voice that betrayed that perhaps Canada was no longer speaking in merely hypothetical terms.

“If you have been truly forgotten, would it really be better to persist than to slip away?” France mused.

At that, a dramatic sigh sounded from across the room.  “Could you two maybe lighten up?”  America grumbled.  “You’re kind of bumming me out.”

“America’s right,” England chimed in, tilting his head in the direction of the voices.  “Let’s talk about something else, like-”

“Italy? Italy! Italy!”


	2. Italy

Italy gasped as he entered the mansion.  It was at the same time exactly as he knew it and altogether new.  Rather than the scent of dust and old pennies, Italy was greeted by the smell of freshly baked pies and earthy, just-watered houseplants.  Corners and halls that he had known to be dark now shone with a light that hovered like fog.  It permeated the air and illuminated every nook.  The air was warm, like a spring day; gone from Italy’s skin were the chills that had become part of his daily existence.

“What do you think?” said Holy Rome.  His voice rang pleasantly from the doorway, but it hid a lonely sort of sadness beneath its tone.

Italy turned in a slow circle to take in all the lovely things that surrounded them, hands poised delicately at his sides as though he meant to take flight.  Finely-crafted tables and chairs stood in tidy corners.  Candles flickered bright in a chandelier up above.  Just down the hall, Japan and Prussia could be heard conversing quietly--perhaps as quietly as Prussia was able, given his voice--wondering at how well-kept everything looked despite the mansion’s exterior.  There was no gloom, no blood, no fear, though neither Prussia nor Japan remarked on the absence of these things.  Italy's eyes flitted here and there until finally, they landed back on Holy Rome.  “It’s… It’s beautiful! It’s just like I dreamed it would be!”

“Exactly as you dreamed,” Holy Rome replied with a stiff nod.    “Remember, Italy, everything shall go as you’d like it to go, here.”

“Are you sure?” said Italy.  His gaze had already begun to stray again.  Every corner of the mansion called out to him, enticing.  “Then… Then where is everybody else?  I’d like them to be here, so why aren’t the others--”

“Hey, does anybody else smell pie?” America’s voice boomed from behind them, and the next moment, he had slung his arms around Italy and Holy Rome’s shoulders. “How’d you guys get here so fast?”

Italy beamed.

“Maybe they didn’t stop for a second lunch break,” Canada quipped, his arms folded.  Holy Rome only laughed and shrugged out of America’s embrace just so he could properly wave hello to the others he knew would be arriving any second.  Sure enough, China, Russia, France and England all came shuffling in, each of them in varying states of interest as they, like Italy, soaked in the wonders of the mansion.  

“You’re here too!” Italy chirped, all smiles and laughter.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right, though he promptly shoved the feeling away as one does an unwanted suitor.

“America insisted that we come,” said France.  He sauntered around the foyer, eyes sparkling like the chandelier above their heads.   "Isn’t that why you’re here, too?  I was worried this was going to be some drab old shack, but this place is truly elegant!”

“It does suit your tastes,” Holy Rome agreed.

“And yours, too, I should think,” England nudged Holy Rome, a smug upturn to his lips.  “You’ve always had a melodramatic streak, just like that one,” he said with a thumb tossed at France.

As they bantered back and forth, Italy watched them all with the strangest fluttering in his heart.  All of his friends were here, weren’t they?  Even Holy Rome.  It was as if he had never disappeared in the first place.  The mansion was warm and ethereal, mysterious yet inviting.  His friends were here.  Holy Rome was here.

This was a lovely dream.

But someone was missing.  He couldn’t remember who.

“Italy.”

Japan’s voice roused him from his reverie.  “Yes, Japan?”

“I called you several times, but you did not respond,” he said with a little frown.  The others had already dispersed and were peeking around corners and into drawers--everyone except for Holy Rome, who stayed by Italy’s side, even as Japan spoke.  “Were you daydreaming?”

“Huh? Oh.”  Italy shook his head as if to clear it.  “No, everything’s okay.  Everything’s great, actually!” he added with a little laugh.  “Was there something you wanted?”

Japan gave a short nod, though a smile had wormed its way onto his face.  “Yes. Prussia and I discovered this interesting antique clock, you see--”

“A clock?” Italy repeated dumbly.  His heart had dropped a mile, and his stomach filled with dread.  

“Yes, a clock,” Japan confirmed, his brows furrowed at Italy.  “We thought you might like to have a look at it.”

“What could be so special about a silly clock?” Italy brushed him off with a nervous laugh.  He hadn’t meant to make Japan look so concerned, but he wasn’t at all sure what he would do if he had to see that horrible clock one more time.  It always meant his friends were gone, that he had failed, failed again, that he had to turn back time before the monsters--

“Come on, Italy,” Holy Rome prodded, watching Italy with knowing eyes. “You should go see it.”

Italy blinked a few times.  Perhaps if Holy Rome were at his side, he thought, it wouldn’t be so difficult.  He took a deep breath.  “Yeah,” he said slowly.  “Yeah, you’re right.  It might be fun if we all go together,” he agreed at last, showing a bright smile to Japan.

Japan returned his smile, if only with a hint of concern .  “Very good,” said Japan.  “It was right this way.”

As the three made their way down the old hallways, Italy felt simultaneously as though he had known them forever and yet not at all.  When they finally tucked into a room, Italy halted abruptly at its threshold, nearly causing Holy Rome to knock him over. Italy had found countless bodies in this room, blood splattered in infinite patterns across the walls at various times.  It was strange, though.  Even as he glanced around the familiar room, he couldn’t remember who had died there, anymore.

Now that he thought about it, had anyone died there before?  He wasn’t sure.

“Italy! Come look at this weird clock!” Prussia called from an obscure corner of the room.  Italy did look, and his eyes settled immediately on a huge, ancient grandfather clock.

“It is weird,” Italy agreed, voice dull.  Before he realized it, he was stepping across the floor towards it.  It was that same, wretched clock, he was sure of it; yet he felt no fear, as he had anticipated just minutes before.  There was nothing but the calm, and a steadfast tick, tick, tick.

Italy stepped closer to the clock as Holy Rome watched, silent, expectant.

“The hour is off,” Prussia remarked.  

Tick, tick, tick.

“You should fix it, Italy,” said Japan.

Tick, tick, tick.

Italy was just inches away from the clock, now.

Tick--

He raised a hand towards its face.

Tick--

With a single finger, he nudged the hour hand back.

Tick.

He let it go and stepped backwards, and there was a moment of nothingness before a smile spread across Italy’s face.  “All better,” he declared, nodding in approval at the clock.  “It is kind of charming, isn’t it?”

Had he been nervous before? He laughed.  That had been silly.

After all, it was just a clock.


	3. Hiding

China was quite accustomed to silencing his steps as he walked.  For him, it was as natural as breathing, as existing--yet as Russia accompanied him down the eerie halls of the mansion, he still felt as though his steps were a drumbeat that called out to those terrible creatures.  They were nowhere to be seen, and yet everywhere; hulking behind each door, looming in every shadow, stalking noiselessly as death through the air right behind him.  They were nowhere, and yet they were always, always in the back of China’s mind, bloodthirsty and eager to destroy him.

“Are you alright?” said Russia, earning a startled gasp from China.  “You seem more tense than usual.  It is not me that frightens you, is it?” Russia asked, eyes accusing.  “I know the others are frightened of me, but I never suspected that you--”

“Be quiet!”  China hissed.  “Surely you do not believe that you are the scariest thing in this house!”

“Oh.”  Russia was silent for a long moment.  “Right.”

They continued towards the annex in silence.  The near-panic that had woven its way into China’s head had dissipated into a dull wariness, burned away by his burst of agitation.  However, his fears flared up again as they began the dark descent into the darkness of the annex, and the void down below soon gave light to the horrors in his head.  With Russia blocking what little light came from the rooms in the annex ahead, China could see nothing in the total blackness of the stairwell.

“Ack!” China yelped as his foot sank into something large and squishy.

Russia startled and made a futile attempt to peer over his shoulder at China.  “What is it?” he insisted, stopping in his tracks.

“Eugh, I don’t know, unless this is some kind of freaky giant slug--”  He stooped down and hesitantly poked the glob.  Finding that it hadn’t bitten his fingers off or otherwise threatened him, he scooped the gooey substance into his hands  As it settled between his fingers, China became acquainted with a sort of pity that he had not felt in a very long time.  “This is some of England’s magic,” he sighed.  On an impulse, he pulled the warm lump close to his chest.

“Oh, splendid,” replied Russia cheerfully, continuing forward.  “I hope we survive long enough to return it to him.  Not that it matters much, anyway.”

“What, are you depressed?” China huffed, following closely behind him.

“Probably!” Russia giggled.  “That’s not my point, though.”

China sighed once more and stuffed the magic into his pocket as they emerged into the chilly annex.  “What is your point, then, Russia?”

There were a few quiet seconds during which the two of them scoped out the room, eyes searching for the hulking monstrosities they feared the most.  They saw none, so Russia began to explain himself.  “Italy was the contract holder, the new Ryuuzu, as he called himself.”

“So what?”

“Don’t you see, China?” said Russia, stopping to look his companion in the eyes; it was an uncomfortable task, considering their respective heights.  “With Italy dead, those monsters have won.  We are in a state of check, you see.  We have lost our most valuable piece, and without hope of setting back the timer--”  He turned away, then-- “Unless we find a way to escape, which is exceedingly unlikely, soon it will be…”

“Checkmate,” China muttered, feeling dizzy. Russia only nodded.  “And if Italy can’t reset time, and England is out of magic…” He clutched nervously at his wrists.  “There will not even be hope for a future set of ourselves.”

Russia sighed.  “Forgive me, China.  I should not have said something so depressing.”

“No, it is the truth.”

“I am not sure that honesty is a permissible reason to destroy someone’s hope.”

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence. “Well,” China breathed out.  “Why don’t we do what we set out to accomplish, now that we’re here?”  He turned on his heel and spared no more time in that room.

“Ah.  Right.”  Russia nodded and followed China through another door.  Again they searched, and again, there was not a monster in sight.  “You said there was a puzzle you wanted to solve, right?”

“Yes,” said China.  “The more I think about it, the more this whole mansion feels like a puzzle, but there’s something about the annex that’s been bothering me,” he frowned.  “There are several things that just don’t look or feel right, like that big room… It’s this way, I think,” he mumbled, leading Russia through several more chambers before they arrived at the door. “This is it.”

The door was swung open to reveal a huge, hazy room full of shelves, odd stacks of paper, and a few stray fire extinguishers.  It appeared to be a storage room, although there seemed to be nothing important stored in it.  “This place gives me the creeps,” Russia admitted in a near-whisper.

“Me too,” China agreed, suppressing a shiver.  “But look,” he said, pointing around the room.  “That one shelf there is different from all the rest.”

“And it’s facing the wrong way,” Russia noted, growing curious. 

China gave a quick nod.  “And then, these fire extinguishers are sitting in a diamond on the floor, and these papers…”  Suddenly he stopped and glanced at Russia.  “Say, didn’t you ask about the papers down here?”

Russia bit the inside of his cheek.  “Er, that is correct.”

“What for?”

A defensive blush crossed Russia’s cheeks.  “You are not the only one to see puzzles here,” he deflected, fidgeting.

“I see,” China replied, obviously skeptical.  “It makes no difference.  Like I was saying, there was another room that was bothering me, back this way,” he said, turning to exit the room.  Russia followed with a grateful sigh.  Keeping secrets had been so much easier when he had been alone all the time, before all this mess.  Every secret he had kept outside this mansion, however, was beginning to seem more trivial with each passing hour.

Quickly enough, they had found their way to a little room tucked away to the side of one of the chambers.  There was not much in the room, barring a table in the center and a lever in the wall.  China seemed satisfied.  “The lever,” he stated.  “What does it do?”

“Oh, yes, I remember seeing that before,” Russia noted.  “There’s one like it upstairs, with some kind of weird guide next to it.  How did it go?” he mused, frowning.  “Something about heaven and hell, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, something like that,” said China, crossing the floor to examine the lever further.  “I can’t help but wonder if this lever is a kind of puzzle, too.”

Russia was about to follow, but it occurred to him, then, that he should lock the door.  It would be no good to be cornered in such a room as this, he thought. That done, he went to stand by China, seeking out anything unusual about the lever or the wall around it.

“There’s no inscription here,” China noted, grazing his hand down the cold wall beside the lever.  “No kind of hint for this puzzle.  Who knows what will happen if we pull it?”

Russia froze.  He could find out for them, couldn’t he? But, then, what would China think of his… methods?  Surely this was worth the risk.

“I think,” Russia said hesitantly, “I think I know who to call.”  

“What?” China scoffed.  “Are you serious?” 

He could just lie about it later if he had to, couldn’t he?  China wasn’t stupid, but Russia knew he had his respect.  If China pried… well.  That was something Russia could deal with later.  If solving the mystery of the annex could give them hope of escape, Russia was willing to risk it.

With that in mind, he pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear, electing to ignore China’s questions for now.  A faint ringing could be heard before an indistinct voice sounded over the line.  “Yes, it’s me.  Can you tell me about the-- wait, who said that?” His face lost its color.  “If those two are there… do whatever they say, even if it costs you your life.” The sound of muffled anger resonated, tinny, through the phone, and Russia cursed under his breath.  “We have no time for such petty arguments.  You’re all dead, anyway,” he stated as casually as one states the weather.  “Now, tell me about the lever in the annex.”  China listened, bewildered, to the brief silence of the line before Russia got his answer.  “Thank you, that was all we needed.  And I don’t care how you do it, just help them!” he exclaimed before the line went dead.

With a huff of irritation, Russia, pocketed his phone before he slowly looked back at China.  “You have questions.”

“Obviously.  What the hell was that about?” He folded his arms, incredulous. 

Russia winced, subtly.  “You cannot tell the others,” he said, watching China’s face for any hint to his reaction.

There was silence and then, “Talk.”


	4. Turmoil

Although their hearts were a little lighter from talking, the silence of the library weighed heavily upon Romano and Spain.  They knew that elsewhere, their friends were fighting for their lives.  Yet, they were trapped here in this library without a clue in the world about how to proceed.  It made Spain feel like he was wilting.

“So,” said Spain, perusing the shelves for the faintest clue. “This timeline’s England refuses to be helpful, and we can only assume that something happened to ours…”

“And Veneziano,” Romano muttered, hugging his arms a little tighter.  It was strange, he thought.  He should be mourning right now.  His brother had certainly died--he had experienced the sensation far too many times before to doubt it--but somehow he was at ease, like someone he trusted very much was here with him.  He looked up at Spain.  He wasn’t the source of that feeling, was he? It was different than that.

Perhaps it was the shock.

“Romano?” Spain fretted. “You kind of zoned out there for a second.  Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m not okay, idiot,” he huffed coming back to himself. “We’re stuck in this timeline for God-knows how long, and little brother--”

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” Spain tried to soothe him, stepping forward to grip the other’s arms.  “Look, we need to think up a plan.”

Romano nodded shortly, taking a few centering breaths. “Do you think we should keep trying to convince this England to send us back?  Or…”  He went quiet and bit his lip.

“Or what?” said Spain, frowning slightly.

Romano wouldn’t look at him. “We could try to change the events of this timeline and escape.”

“Romano!”

“Don’t ‘Romano’ me, you jerk! I’m just saying, it’s an option--”

“No, it isn’t!” Spain countered, taken aback. “We can’t just abandon everyone like that!” 

“But everyone’s here, dammit!” Romano turned and kicked a bookshelf, hard, but immediately regretted it. “That fucking hurt,” he growled, grabbing his toe and muttering curses to himself.  

Spain’s quiet laugh filled the air, then.

“Oh, what? So now you think it’s funny that I stubbed my damned toe?” Romano growled.

“No, that’s not it,” said Spain, still smiling. “It’s just so like you to want to save everybody.”

“I don’t want to save everybody,” Romano retorted, scowling. “I just want to save…” 

Spain faltered then.  “Oh…” he said, shuffling uncomfortably.  “You want to stay here, because if we go back…”

“Do I have to spell it out for you, dumbass?” Romano spat.  “My stupid little brother didn’t make it in our timeline, but he’s still alive here.  There’s still hope, here, don’t you get it?”

“I…” Spain looked away.  “I get it. But, Romano, this isn’t our timeline, and the people here aren’t....”  He shook his head, unsure. “Even if we did somehow save this timeline and escape all together, I couldn’t live with myself knowing I’d abandoned all our friends without even trying to get back to them.”

There was an uncomfortable silence until Romano finally huffed and said, “Then you go back. I’m staying here.”

Spain was stunned.  “Hey now, just because I don’t want to leave them behind doesn’t mean I can leave you here all by yourself, either!”

“I wouldn’t be by myself!” Romano shouted back. “Everyone’s here! Everyone, including this timeline’s version of you, somewhere outside of this God-forsaken mansion.”

The hurt that welled up in Spain’s chest that he could be so easily replaced was something that he tried furiously to tamp down before it consumed him. “That means there’s also one of you,” he stated, gripping Romano’s arms even tighter. “And if I go back without you, who will I have?”

“Everybody fucking else, that’s who!”

Just like that, Spain pulled Romano into a hug.  Romano’s first instinct was to stiffen, but within a second or two he was hugging back, and tears were springing to his eyes.  “That wouldn’t matter,” Spain whispered, pulling Romano close.  He didn’t mind that his shirt was getting soaked with tears as Romano began to sob. “That wouldn’t matter if I didn’t have you, because they aren’t you.  Got it?” 

“You bastard,” Romano hiccuped, clutching Spain’s shirt weakly. “Why can’t you make this easy for me?  Why can’t you just let me stay here with Veneziano?  I don’t even care if I make it or not, as long as I don’t have to--”

The door banged open, then.  Spain and Romano jumped apart just as Prussia came barrelling in.  Canada was draped across his back, heavily injured. They made it several feet into the room before Prussia froze, noticing for the first time the two people who stood in it.  “When did you guys get here?” he asked, setting Canada down on the floor to rest against a bookshelf.  

Canada let out a pitiful little groan.  “Prussia, the door…”

Prussia swore and turned on his heel, but it was too late; three grey monsters had already poured into the room, two on foot and one floating in the air. “Spain! Romano!” Prussia called. “You can tell me how you got here later!  Right now, I need your help!”  

“You got it!” Spain called out.  He and Romano were at Prussia’s side the next instant, drawing out their weapons. Compared to the strength of the monsters from their timeline, the monsters were no match for Spain or Romano, and together with Prussia, they made quick work of them.  Romano was almost disappointed when the last one died; he would have liked to take out his anger on something for a little while longer.

“And don’t come back!” Prussia shouted at the dust the monsters left behind as they disappeared.  He was red-faced and huffing, but his eyes still held a spark.  “You guys fought… really well,” he admitted, and then he laughed lightly.  “Almost too well.  I’m a little surprised.”

“Hey, are you alright?” Spain asked him, desperate to divert the conversation and avoid suspicion.

“Yeah,” he panted, giving a quick nod.   “But Canada--”

“H-Hey, guys, could you maybe help me stop the bleeding?” Canada quietly requested from where he bled on the floor.

Romano swore and was the first to Canada’s side. “Where’s the deepest cut? Here?” he asked, pulling out his handkerchief to press at the wound.  Canada nodded, too dizzy to question that Romano was there.  “Where else?” Romano asked, eyes searching for the wounds underneath all the blood.  Prussia and Spain searched right alongside him.

“There’s… another on my… my leg, I think,” he managed.  After another cursory look at Canada’s body--there was indeed a wound on his leg, but it was almost laughable how many other wounds Canada could have pointed out.  Nevertheless, Romano sighed with relief.  “You’ve lost a lot of blood, but if we can get some fluids back in you, you’re gonna be fine.  These are mostly surface wounds.  We just need to get you somewhere safe to rest.”

Spain was beaming with pride.  “That’s great news!” he said.  He shot a glance at Prussia.  “Why don’t we take him to the safe room?”

Prussia stared at him with a confused frown on his face. “What the hell are you talking about a ‘safe room’?  This room’s as safe as any in this mansion,” he said.  “How long have you two been here, anyway?”

Spain licked his lips and put on his best smile. “Er, well, we got here a little while ago just to explore, you see, but there are all these monsters!” he said, trying to look surprised. 

“Yeah,” Romano joined in.  “I’m pretty surprised we haven’t run into anybody except you, yet,” he lied.

“Is everyone else okay?” Spain asked quickly, once again attempting to deflect Prussia’s suspicion.

“Everyone’s alive, if that’s what you mean,” Prussia answered, still frowning.  Their story didn’t add up.  He wanted to question them further, but then he looked at Canada and bit his lip.  “Look, why don’t you two wait here with him while I get some help?”

Romano huffed. “Bring some food back, too, if you can,” he advised, still holding the cloth to Canada’s injury.

“Do I look like a butler to you?” Prussia responded with a toothy grin.  “Sure, I’ll get it.  I’ll be right back!” he promised, shooting towards the door, where he paused for only a moment.  “When I get back, you guys better have your story straight.”


	5. The Rest

“Japan, please, calm down!” Prussia insisted, but Japan still recoiled from Italy’s dead body with wide, terrified eyes.

“Don’t you see them?!” Japan shouted, pressing himself against the wall in his fright.  “Don’t you see his… his eyes?” 

“There’s nothing there, Japan!” Prussia replied, exasperated.

By now, the others had begun crowding that corner of the room where Germany, Japan and Prussia had gone to mourn.  All who were able saw that Italy’s eyes were shut, that his face was blank, serene, silent.  It comforted no one, Japan least of all.

“It’s right there!” Japan urged Prussia.  “Can’t you see what has happened to him? Look at his-- oh-oh God.. Ita...ly…” he croaked out, tears falling fresh down his pale cheeks as he trembled.

Germany was quick to Japan’s side.  “Japan, what is it?” He asked, his voice calm but direct.  “What do you see?”

Canada shifted uncomfortably on his feet.  All he saw was the corpse of a friend.

“D-Don’t tell me you don’t see it, too,” came Japan’s indignant reply.  He stared at Italy’s face with unblinking eyes.

Prussia grit his teeth and hoped that nothing had been broken inside Japan that could not be fixed with time.  “None of us can see it,” he explained as gently as he could.  “You’re going to have to tell us what you’re seeing right now.”

Everyone looked on with pity as Japan shook, trying to make his tongue form a response.  America in particular hated seeing Japan look so distraught, so helpless.

“His eyes have--have gone black,” Japan stated, his voice quavering.  “And.. and his skin is…” He shook his head and let out a pitiful little laugh.  “It is the color of rotten scone.”

Germany bit his lip.  He refused to cry.  “Japan, nothing like that has happened to Italy,” he said, clenching his fists at his sides.  “His eyes aren’t even open.  Pull yourself together!” he demanded, unable to bear the thought of losing Japan, too.

Suddenly, Japan shook his head, looking entirely confused.  “N-No, don’t you… don’t you see him? He’s right there, Germany, just… j-just look at him,” he said, almost begging for anyone else to see what was right in front of him: the grayness of Italy’s skin, the emptiness of his eyes.

Germany did look at Italy.  They all did, and still, they saw nothing. 

Japan had seldom felt more alone. 

“He must be taking this loss hard,” America muttered to nobody in particular. England elbowed him in the ribs.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Prussia soothed, approaching Japan as one approaches a cornered animal.  He took his arm lightly and said, “Come on, Japan, why don’t we take you somewhere else for a while?  You’re exhausted, aren’t you?  Look at him, there’s nothing--what the hell?”  Now Prussia, too, was staring at Italy’s corpse.

Japan took in a sharp breath.  “You see it, too?”

A dumb nod was all Prussia could muster.

“What the hell is going on?” England exclaimed, frustrated by his lack of sight.

“We would be glad to know the same, I assure you,” said France, looking to anybody for an explanation.

“Prussia, explain yourself!” Germany barked.  He wasn’t sure how much more of this his sanity could take.

“It’s just like he said,” Prussia answered.  “His skin is all grey, and… and his eyes are… what the fuck is going on?”

“You said it!” America agreed.  “He looks the same as ever to me.”

“And me,” said Canada.

France shook his head. “I see no difference.  Does he look the same to you, Germany?”

Germany just nodded.

“My head hurts,” Japan mumbled, and seconds later he was sagging into Prussia, unconscious.

Just like that, Prussia could see Italy’s true face again.  “Japan?!” he exclaimed, tearing his eyes frantically between him and Italy.

Germany had a grip on Japan the next instant.  “He’s unconscious,” he stated, pulling Japan out of Prussia’s grasp.  After he had laid Japan on the nearest bed, he turned to Prussia. “Are you alright, brother?”

Prussia nodded, shaken.  “I’m fine, but just now...” he struggled for a moment to believe himself.  “I thought Japan had lost it, I really did, but then I saw it, too,” he said, eyes full of disbelief.  “Italy was starting to look like those things, but now he’s back to normal.”

“He never changed,” France insisted.  “You and Japan are the only ones who saw him like that.”

“How strange,” said Canada.  “As soon as Prussia touched Japan, he saw what Japan saw, but… what was Japan seeing, to begin with?”

A dissatisfied hum escaped England.  “Could this have anything to do with the visions we get when we break the clocks?  Japan’s visions are usually more intense, and he sees the future…”

America froze.  “You don’t think Italy’s gonna turn into one of those things somehow, do you?”

Nobody had an answer.

“We should think about this while we rest,” Germany suggested with a bitter sigh.  “This and any of the dozens of other goddamned mysteries we’ve yet to solve.”

“West,” Prussia called out.  “Keep it together.  We need you here.”

There was a beat of silence before, “...Sorry.”

The others dispersed, giving Germany his space.

A deep, heavy cold settled in Prussia’s stomach as he took another look back at Italy.  The longer he stared, stronger became the memory of his skin growing paler, paler still, and his eyes glossing over with ink.  It was too much.  The only thing he could think to do was pull the sheets up over Italy’s face.

As he did so, there was a faint, pleased giggle in his mind.

“Looks like you.”


	6. Trust

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

China rolled his eyes.  “Out with it!”  There was a nervous shuffling of feet as Russia looked down, suddenly shy.  “Russia,” China sighed.  “Or shall I call you Ivan? You do know the significance of those silly human names we chose, don’t you?”  he asked.  “They symbolize our bonds as individuals, not just as nations. __ I have known you for centuries.  Do you really think that one phone call would change my opinion of you?”

There were many things Russia feared.  He wasn’t particularly fond of spiders, for one thing.  Nighttime still somehow managed to put him on edge.  Yet, while he could stare death itself in the face and smile, the idea of dying alone and forgotten filled him with dread.

And here he stood, with the only person in the mansion whom he could reasonably call ‘friend’ in front of him, and a slow but sure death closing in all around them.  If it meant risking being shunned by his only friend--

It felt so childish, but Russia found his tongue to be stuck.  “We can talk about this later, after we have solved this puzzle.”

China frowned.  “Fine,” he said, knowing that Russia would never admit to anything unwillingly.  “I will hold you to that.  Will you at least say what information your… contact has given you?”

“Ah yes, that I can say.”  Russia shoved his hands into his pockets and turned his attention once more to the lever.  “But first I must ask you: do you trust me, China?”

“On occasion.”

“That’s fair,” Russia agreed.  “Though you trust too easily.”

An exasperated huff of laughter escaped China at that.  “I only trust you because you tell such blatant lies,” he said, a hint of a smile on his lips.  “And your informant, do you trust them?”

“You know me better than that, China!” Russia giggled.  “Of course not.  Do not be ridiculous.”  He hummed in contemplation and traced his finger along the edge of the lever.  “I have been reliably informed that, had the lever upstairs been pushed into the opposite position than the one it is in now, things would have gone much worse for the one who pulled it.”

“I see,” said China, furrowing his brow.  “So we can only assume that the same consequences will apply here.  If we push it one way, we will be given something helpful, and if we push it the other way--”  
“It won’t be our problem anymore, then,” Russia finished for him, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the lever.  “My contact told me to push this lever up.”

“Wait a minute,” China said quickly. “This is no longer a puzzle about the lever, is it?”

Russia gave a short nod and took a deep breath. “If he said ‘up’, then…”  Without another moment’s hesitation, he yanked the lever down.

The next second, the air was filled with a horrible groaning, like the sound a ship makes as it takes on water through fatal wound in its side. A hulking monstrosity appeared, filling up most of the room with its massive body.

“Shit!” China shouted, drawing his sword.

Russia, however, faltered.  “Why…” he muttered, eyes unfocused.  “Why would I…?”

China swore once more.  “Move, you fool!” he yelled and yanked Russia away from the lever.  The monster lurched towards them as they bolted for the door, that horrific groan resounding through the room, through their very bones.  China’s first instinct was to fling the door open, but he almost fell over as it resisted, locked.

Having recovered himself, Russia whirled on the monster barrelling towards them and slashed out at it with his pipe, having no time to pull the sword from it.  “Open it!” he roared.  The monster did not slow.

Whatever response China tried to make was lost as Russia was flung into him, smashing them both against the door with splintering force, though it was not enough to break the heavy door.  By the time they scrambled to their feet, the behemoth was upon them, slashing at them with gargantuan claws.  Russia, in turn, swung his pipe to meet each blow.  “I’ll--hold it! Just--” a claw like a dagger caught him in the ribs, and he yelled out in pain.  “The door, China!”

Never before had a lock seemed so difficult to China than the one on this door.  He fumbled with it for several adrenaline-fueled seconds before finally it clicked.  “Russia, let’s go!” he called out, slamming the door open in his desperation to escape.

Russia turned on his heel in preparation to dart out the door, but the monster was quicker.  With terrifying precision, it hooked a claw through Russia’s calf, sending him crashing to the floor with a scream of pain.  Russia swung his pipe frantically at the beast’s face and free arm, trying in desperation to save himself.  The monster waved its fist like a bludgeon, however, and Russia’s pipe was knocked away, leaving him defenseless to the claw that was driving right towards his head.

There was a shower of blood as China cut the creature’s hand off with one furious swipe of his sword.  A metallic screech shattered the air, and the monster had no choice but to pry its claw out of Russia’s leg in order to defend itself from China’s wrath.  Still, the hulking beast was beyond powerful, and with one slash scored four angry gashes in China’s arm as he tried to block the attack.

Despite the incredible pain shooting up through his mangled leg, Russia hobbled to his feet and snatched up his pipe, immediately leaning onto it for support.  “Just run!” he called out to China as he limped as quickly as he could towards the door.

Taking one final stab at the monster, China fled just in time to avoid a slash to his back.  The beast gave chase, but was slowed by the door that Russia and China managed to slam shut behind themselves as they escaped.  They left a trail of blood as they ran.

The sound of grinding metal followed them all the way up the stairs of the annex, and neither of them looked back until they had made it back to the safe-room once more.


	7. Tenacity

With the amount of blood-loss he had suffered, Canada was having a difficult time holding onto the frantic words Romano and Spain were exchanging.

“Should we just tell everyone?” Spain was carding his hands through his hair in his stress.

“We can’t do that, you idiot!” Romano snapped.  “They’ll just do like that English bastard did and tell us to go screw ourselves.”

“But maybe they’ll let us help them!” Spain supplied.

Canada frowned, bewildered at his words and the sudden silence that followed.

“You mean you’ll stay here with me after all?” Romano said, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Spain looked away, then. “Well, if England won’t send us home,” he sighed, “it wouldn’t hurt to make ourselves useful while we look for another way back.”

“What are you guys...” Canada’s eyes unfocused and refocused themselves as they scanned over Spain and Romano’s faces.  “What’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing,” Romano assured him, but when he looked down to the bloodstained rag he was supposed to have been holding to Canada’s injury, he cursed.  In his distraction, he had let his hand slip.  “Damn it, that didn’t do you any good,” he muttered.  The sound of rustling cloth filled the air as he adjusted the makeshift bandage.  “How are you feeling?”

Canada grunted and grit his teeth as a fresh wave of hurt went through him. Despite the way his head was swimming, the pain wasn’t at all dulled for Canada.   “I’m… I’m okay, I think,” he said, nodding.

“Just try to hang in there, okay?” Spain instructed.  “Prussia’s gonna be back soon, and then we can get you patched up,” he said, giving Canada’s leg a gentle pat.  “Try not to fall asleep on us.”

“Or on me, specifically,” Romano grouched, though mainly he wanted to give Canada a distraction from his pain, however meager.

Canada nodded and tried to sit up straighter, though all he managed to do was stretch his neck up a little. “Sorry,” he mumbled to Romano.  “I don’t have the…  don’t have the strength to keep… keep the…” He scrunched up his face, searching for the words through the cotton in his brain.  “To keep the blood in,” he finally decided.

Spain and Romano shared a doubtful look before Romano said, “Well, that’ll be my job until the cavalry arrives.” He paused, worriedly noting the pallor of Canada’s skin.  “Hopefully soon, but in the meantime, why don’t you tell me about, uh…” He looked to Spain, who just shrugged.  Romano sighed.  “Tell me about the last assholish thing your brother did.”

This earned a laugh from Canada.  “When, today?” he teased, a spark of lucidity returning to his pale face.  “This morning at the meeting, he put, uhm,” he looked to the ground as if it held the memories. “He put sugar in my coffee, when I wasn’t looking, ‘n then… then I put sugar in--in my coffee, too…”

As interesting as Canada’s halting tale of brotherly rivalry was to Spain and Romano, they were more than a little thankful when through the door rushed Prussia with Russia and England in tow.  England didn’t even have time to greet Spain or Romano with a scowl before his eyes found Canada’s blood-soaked body.  “Oh my god,” he exclaimed before he knelt down beside Canada, trying to ignore his nausea and the stench of blood.  “Here, let me--” in one swift motion, he put a hand on Canada’s chest.  “Sanguis Paramente!” he chanted.  There was a flash like a thunderbolt, and when England pulled his hand away--

\--Canada was still covered in blood, and still very much lying in a weakened heap against a bookshelf.

“Well that doesn’t look like it helped,” Russia observed.

England looked like he wanted to say something, but was rudely interrupted when Prussia brushed him aside so that he could squat next to Canada, too. “Good thing I brought this,” he said, holding a dusty bottle of beer and a dried-out rice ball, both of which he offered to Canada.  “To cure all that ails you.”

“Thank you so much,” said Canada, though he looked a little confused about the food.  Romano rolled his eyes and yanked the bottle from Prussia’s hand to help Canada take a sip.  Canada grimaced at the taste, but swallowed it anyway.  “And thanks England, for trying to help, even if it didn’t work like you--”

“It did work!” England huffed. “I wasn’t trying to heal your whole body.  After all the fighting we’ve done today, I don’t really have the energy for that right now,” he confessed, crossing his arms stubbornly.  “I just slowed the flow of blood coming out of your wounds so you don’t bleed to death before we can get out of here.”

Spain leapt at his chance to win favor with England.  “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll all get out of this place together soon now that Boss Spain is here to help you all escape!” he declared, making sure to look England in the eyes to get his point across, that they intended to be helpful.  England just scowled at him--he didn’t believe for one second that Spain actually cared about his timeline.  

“I cannot say that a few extra hands are unneeded here,” said Russia.  “Though really, when did you arrive?” 

As Spain attempted to explain that he and Romano had come in through the basement, Prussia hoisted Canada into his arms.  Dizziness prevented Canada from being very bothered by the extra motion and, after the initial shock, he continued to quietly nibble on the rice ball he had been given.

“Hey, England,” Prussia called out to England, who had been watching Spain’s pitiful attempt at deception with some amusement.  “Canada won’t be able to defend himself for a while. Where can we take him to rest?”

“We’re waiting for you,” Prussia heard.

Shivers ran down Prussia’s spine, and he shook his head.  “What did you say?”

England frowned back at him.  “I said that we should join up with the rest of the group. You know, safety in numbers, and all that.  Are you feeling alright?” he asked.  “You look spooked.”  Even as light-headed as he was, Canada had noticed Prussia stiffen, and his eyes were full of concern.

“Yeah, I just…” Prussia paused, and all that filled the gap was Spain’s dramatic reenactment of their journey from the basement.  “Sorry.  Let’s get out of here.”

“Yes, let’s,” Romano huffed, wishing more than anything that Spain would shut up and quit convoluting their cover story.

Though he was a little suspicious, England nodded and said, “Right.  Let’s go.”

Russia led the charge out of the library while England kept up the rear.  “It sounds like you two have had quite an adventure,” said Russia, smiling backwards at Spain.  “So, after you decapitated the third monster, then what did you do?”  By this point it had become quite clear to him that Spain wasn’t telling the truth, though he found it entertaining to watch him squirm.

“We, uh,” said Spain.

“We went straight to the library after that, without incident,” Romano finished for him, resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands.  “Absolutely nothing else happened,” he stated with a pointed glare at Spain.

Prussia huffed an incredulous laugh and leaned over to England to whisper, “I smell shit.”

“It’s because they’re full of it,” England retorted at full volume.  “I should’ve said this sooner, but--”

The chime of a cell phone interrupted him.  Russia stopped at the head of their little train to fumble through his pockets.  “Er, excuse me,” he said, looking at his phone.  ‘I’ll only be a minute.”  With that, he scurried to the end of the hall for a little privacy.

“That was weird,” Canada noted as he watched Russia go.  “What were you saying, England?” he asked.  Processing what was happening around him was still a struggle, though the food had invigorated him.  

“I was saying that these two are telling nothing but lies,” he said, crossing his arms.

“What the fuck do you mean we’re telling lies?” Romano shouted, determined to hold onto his cover in front of Prussia and Canada, at least. “Just because tomato-head over here can’t tell a decent story doesn’t mean that--”

“Well that’s not very nice,” Spain pouted.

“Oh please,” England scoffed. “You expect me to let you two sabotage our timeline like I don’t know what you want with us?”

“Who said we wanted to sabotage anyone?” Spain exclaimed.

At the same time, Prussia said, “Woah, wait, I knew you guys weren’t telling the full truth, but this? What the hell is going on?” 

“Timelines…?” Canada muttered.

Romano let out a growl of frustration before he gave up and admitted, “Yes, timelines!  This isn’t our fucking timeline, okay?”  The looks of shock from Prussia and Canada irritated him more than he knew how to explain.  “There’s God-knows how many timelines of you bastards getting stuck in this damned mansion, and we tried to rescue you but shit hit the fan and now we’re stuck here in your stupid timeline.”

“Romano…” Spain sighed, surprised that Romano had been the first to give up on their ruse.

England, however, looked rather pleased.  “That’s closer to the truth,” he said.  “And why don’t you tell them what you wanted me to do?”  Canada and Prussia remained silent.

“I asked you to send us back to our own timeline, but you refused,” said Spain, frowning deeply.  “And since you won’t help us leave, we don’t have much of a choice other than staying here and trying to escape with everyone.”

“So don’t tell the others, alright?” Romano demanded.  His voice was threatening but his eyes begged.  “We want to survive just like you do.  Nobody has to know.”  

England, Prussia and Canada shared hesitant glances just as Russia’s voice filled the air.  “If you keep talking so loudly, you won’t need to worry about us telling anyone,” he pointed out, annoyance etched onto his face.  It was easy to see that more than just the noise had bothered him.

Romano let out a yelp and jumped.  “S-Sorry,” he mumbled, crossing his arms defensively.  “Are you gonna keep your mouths shut, or not?”

“I guess so,” said Prussia, who was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that these weren’t his timeline’s versions of Spain and Romano.  “But what’s going to happen once we get out and there’s two of you guys?”

“Won’t that cause some kind of paradox?” Canada worried.

England sighed.  “We can deal with that later.  I won’t tell the others, but if either of you start to cause trouble, know that I won’t hesitate,” he said.

“I think trouble has found us,” said Russia as he pulled out his sword.  The others whirled around to see half a dozen monsters lurching towards them.

“Where the hell did they all come from?” Prussia yelled, holding Canada a little tighter.  Canada wished he had the strength to pull out his bow.

“There’s too many!” England swore, turning on his heel.  “Run!”

And run they did.


	8. Heart

Holy Rome closed his eyes and suppressed a sigh.  Certainly, he thought, the clock would have given Italy a clue.  Rather, it seemed to have thrown him further into his oblivion.  Even as Italy chattered cheerfully with Prussia and Japan about an old clock maker he once knew, the flame of recognition waned duller and duller in Italy’s eyes.

That Italy still seemed to remember what had occurred in this mansion before, even vaguely, gave Holy Rome hope that there was still enough time.  Many important pieces had fallen away already, like the significance of that old grandfather clock, so Holy Rome feared that unless Italy could come to his senses soon, all would be lost.

“Are you alright?”

Italy stood alone as Holy Rome blinked in surprise, Prussia and Japan having gone to investigate elsewhere.  “Yes, of course,” Holy Rome nodded, suppressing a shiver as that ominous clock peeked at him over Italy’s shoulder.

“Oh, good!” Italy replied with a bright grin.  “I want you to tell me the rules of this place,” he insisted, tugging at Holy Rome’s arm.  “Come on, show me!”

Holy Rome marvelled at how much younger Italy looked after the weight of even a few memories had been lifted from his soul.  “I was beginning to wonder when you’d ask,” he chuckled as he linked his arm with Italy’s.  Firmly together, warm and secure, they began a leisurely stroll through the mansion.  “Perhaps the most important thing you should know is that your wishes are very powerful here.”

“I don’t feel like I’ve made any wishes, though,” Italy mused.

Holy Rome hummed his agreement.  “You wouldn’t,” he explained.  “They are the wishes of your heart.  This place is as you see it because your heart wills it to be so.  Dreams and wishes are rarely conscious things.”

Italy was thoughtful for a few paces before he asked, “So, this place.. What is it?” he asked.  “I know it’s the mansion, and I feel like I’ve been here a really long time, a bunch of times, even.  It was really bad before, I know that much, but I don’t know why.  I can’t get the feeling out of my heart, you know?  And I think some people died, but that doesn’t make sense, because everybody’s here,” he said, looking to his companion for guidance.  Holy Rome’s heart constricted as Italy struggled to explain the gaps in his memory. “I have this weird feeling in my stomach like there’s something really important I’m missing, maybe a lot of things, so, really,” he insisted, clenching his hands tighter around Holy Rome’s arm, “what is this place?”

Holy Rome stopped walking.  “I can’t tell you,” he sighed.

Italy paused, too, disapproval written on his face.  “What do you mean you can’t tell me?  That’s not fair at all!” he complained.  “Why not?”

“Well, I could tell you,” Holy Rome corrected himself.  “I could, but your heart will not allow you to listen.”

Muffled piano music drifted up to them to fill the heavy pause.  “Wait a minute,” Italy stated, letting go of Holy Rome’s arm just so he could cross his own.  “Didn’t you just say all my wishes come true, here? So, I wish to know about this mansion!”

A sad ache arose in Holy Rome’s chest as he explained, “You may think in your head that you want to know what this place truly is, but your heart is wishing so strongly for the opposite that I really can’t tell you.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Italy. “Come on, just say it.  What’s stopping you?”

“Your heart, Italy!” Holy Rome huffed in frustration.  “I mean it when I say I cannot tell you.  You see, listen to what I am about to tell you,” he sighed, placing his hands on Italy’s shoulders so that he could look him directly in the eyes.  He cleared his throat.

Italy planted his hands on his hips and waited for several seconds, hearing nothing but the piano’s light melody.  “Well?” he asked, feeling a little impatient now.  “Aren’t you going to tell me something?”

“I did,” came Holy Rome’s deadpan reply.

“Woah, seriously?” Italy exclaimed.  “No way!  I didn’t even see your mouth move or anything.  Why don’t you try it again so I can--”

“I already repeated myself,”  Holy Rome sighed.  “Your heart can’t hear me, Italy.  It won’t.”

Italy frowned and took Holy Rome’s arm once more, this time leaning his head against his shoulder. “So really,” Italy said, “I have to find out for myself what this place is?  Or maybe my heart will change its mind!” he added with a laugh, though it was made heavy with disappointment.

“Your heart can be very stubborn, I’m afraid,” said Holy Rome, smiling past his worry.  “Why don’t we go see if the others can give it a nudge in the right direction, hm?”

Italy smiled softly and said, “I like that idea.”

Together, the two of them followed the cheerful  voices bouncing down the halls and stairwells until they found nearly everyone marvelling at a particular room.

“There’s enough food in here to last us for days, somehow,” Canada noted just as Italy and Holy Rome crested the stairs.  The room was spacious and inviting, and it drew Italy in instantly like a warm embrace from an old friend.  He loved everything about it.  Just enough chairs for him and his friends sat around a large table, and there was even a kitchen!  It was perfect, he thought, almost like it had been made just for him.  

He wondered who had built it.

“Isn’t it cool?” America exclaimed.  “And look at all these beds!  We could have a big party here and then stay the night!”  He ran excitedly to Canada, then, and said, “Dude, we could tell ghost stories when it gets dark, and have a pillow fight!”

Canada only laughed at America’s suggestion, but Italy’s face lit up.  “Oh yeah!  And then we could explore the yard in the morning, and have a picnic, too!”  Excitement bubbled out from Italy, and he couldn’t help but look energetically between America’s smiling face to Canada’s bloodstained--

Italy blinked, and the vision was gone, though his mood had been destroyed as well.  “I’m going to go look around some more, I think,” he quietly excused himself and walked off towards the beds.  The change did not go unnoticed, but only Holy Rome followed him.  It seemed natural for Canada and America to let Holy Rome take care of Italy, and so they busied themselves elsewhere.  

“Is something troubling you?” Holy Rome carefully approached Italy, who was standing amidst the beds with his arms crossed.

“I saw something,” Italy sniffed.  “I can’t even remember what I saw now, but it kind of scared me, I think.”  He laughed weakly and said, “Maybe I should lie down for a bit.  This bed looks comfortable, don’t you think?”

For just a moment, Holy Rome saw Japan standing vigil there next to the bed, and Prussia there near him, and lying lifeless on the sheets--

“Not that one!” Before he could even process his instinct, Holy Rome had grabbed Italy’s arm.  The startled look Italy gave him in return caused him to fumble with his words.  “I--I think I saw a spider go under the pillow.  Why don’t you rest over here, instead?” he suggested, tugging Italy over to the opposite side of the room.

“A spider?” Italy exclaimed.  “That’s no good at all!  Spiders aren’t very cuddly!” he yawned, allowing Holy Rome to sit him down on a different bed.  “Guess I am tired,” he giggled to himself.  Holy Rome stood there patiently as Italy kicked off his shoes and tucked himself in.  “Wouldn’t want to sleep with a spider,” Italy mumbled just as an idea splashed pink across his face.  “But you, on the other hand--”

Holy Rome went scarlet and squeaked out, “Sweet dreams, Italy.”

Thankfully, despite all the excitement and the sound of his friends exploring all around him, Italy was out like a light in under five minutes.  Holy Rome witnessed the instant he fell asleep--the friendly chatter faded into muteness, and the people themselves soon followed.  The very walls changed, too, from their bright coats of paint into their eerie white hues.

Cold seeped into Holy Rome’s blood, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.  Eyes, somewhere, were watching him, and he knew whose they were.

“I won’t let you take him,” Holy Rome stated calmly.  “He doesn’t belong here.”

“Neither do you.  You belong with us.”

“Maybe one day,” he agreed.  “Maybe one day I’ll be forgotten, like you, but there are those who still remember.”

“How long will you remember?” asked one voice.  

“How long will it be until you forget who you are?” said another.

Holy Rome clenched his teeth.  “This isn’t about me,” he growled at the sourceless voices.  “He will remember, and when he does--”

“We’ll be waiting.”

“Time is ours, patience is blood.”

“Time is hours, patience to dust.”

“We hold forever in our bones.”

“Forever holds us in its claws.”

“Still, forever, we will wait.”


	9. Truth

He had never been so useless.  He was a hypocrite, at best.  Why was it that he had scolded America so harshly for trying to be the hero, and then gone off on his own to do the same?  All it had gotten him was blinded.  So there he laid on top his bed sheets, wishing more than anything to be able to stare blankly at that ceiling again.

He sighed.  “America, I’m blind, not dying.  You don’t have to sit there if you don’t want to.”

America stiffened in the chair he had dragged next to England’s bed, having thought him asleep.  On his other side lay Japan, motionless, his eyes closed.  “Hey, who said I was here for you?” America countered.  “Japan’s still not awake yet, you know.  Besides,” he added with a wry grin.  “Someone’s gotta keep you from falling down the stairs when you get up to pee.”

That drew a scoff from England.  “It’s not like you have to sit right there to hear me shouting that I need to take a piss.  Oh, wait, that’s right,” he said with a bitter twitch of his lips.  “I forgot it wouldn’t occur to you that someone might ask for help if they need it.”

“You’re one to talk,” America bit back, resolutely not moving from his spot at England’s side.  “At least I didn’t outright refuse help when it was standing right behind me.”

England exhaled, long and empty.  “We really are cut from the same cloth, aren’t we?”

“What a loud cloth that is,” Japan groaned, forcing himself to sit up.

America and England couldn’t help but be startled.  “Woah, hey, you’re awake!” America said, taking his eyes off England for the first time in an hour.  “How are you feeling?”

“I have a headache that could down an ox,” Japan sighed, running a hand through his hair absently.  

“Japan.” England licked his lips, hesitant.  “Do you remember what you saw before you passed out?”

A wave of cold shot through Japan at the memory.  He nodded before realizing that England couldn’t see him, so he whispered, “Yes, I remember.”

The answer was enough for England, but America wasn’t satisfied.  “So, are you, like... okay now?” he asked, watching Japan skeptically.

“Am I hallucinating? No,” Japan huffed, affronted by the face America was making at him, as though he were made of glass.  “America, I know what I saw,” he firmly insisted.  “Prussia saw it too, didn’t he?  I need…”  He shook his head, willing it to stop pounding.  “I’m going to go find him.  Excuse me.”  Without another word, he swung his legs off the side of the bed and left.  America sighed and let him go.  He had a job to do, after all.

Though it was tempting to follow the smell of food cooking--he could hear France and Canada’s subdued chatter in the kitchen--Japan found Prussia and Germany huddled around the table, cleaning their already pristine weapons, perhaps attempting to wipe away their woes with the long-since cleaned grime.  Old rags and beer bottles in varying states of emptiness sat on the table, idly watching the brothers’ idler progress.  Germany and Prussia were so lost in their thoughts that they hardly noticed Japan standing there among the bottles.  For a fleeting moment Japan wondered if this is what it felt like to be some forgotten ghost.  He settled on a cough to get their attention.

Germany was the first to look up.  “J-Japan,” he stuttered out, visibly surprised to see him there.  When he was done being surprised, he started worrying that Japan might have a mental break at any moment.  “Are you… feeling alright?”

“Please don’t look at me like that,” Japan sighed as he slid into the seat next to Prussia.  “I’m fine, thank you, except I have a terrible headache.”

“That’s not a very nice thing to call me,” Prussia teased, setting his sword down to look at Japan.  His breath reeked of alcohol.

“What?” Japan tiredly asked him.  “Oh, that was a joke,” he realized a second too late; a terrible, drunken joke, but one nonetheless. “My apologies.  This headache…” he explained with a vague wave of his hand.  “How are you two feeling?”

Germany was wishing the bottles scattered around them had been full of more potent stuff so that he could forget the pain in his chest.  His only solace was the knowledge that he would be allowed to break apart once they got out of the mansion.  If they got out.  “I’m fine,” he stated.  Nobody believed him.  “It does my heart some good to see you up and about, Japan.  I was worried for you.”

Japan knew better than to show Germany pity in this moment.  “I hope I can ease your worries, then.  What about you, Prussia?”

“Just peachy,” he said with a sloppy grin.  “I’ve got swords, ‘n guns, ‘n my favorite little brother.  And beer!” he added, lifting a bottle to his lips.  He took a swig and released it with a dramatic sigh of satisfaction.  “Tastes like shit,” he complained with a smile.  “D’you know how hard it is to get drunk on beer?  Shitty, dusty beer?”

“Well, you did get it from the toilet,” he pointed out.  Japan did not, in fact, know how hard it was to get drunk on shitty, dusty beer, nor did he get the chance to find out.  The metal door of the safe room banged open and shut with a pair of muffled thumps.  The muffled thumps were followed by uneven, shuffling steps, and a hollow, metallic clinking up the stairs.  Chairs scraped across the floor as Japan, Prussia, and Germany hurriedly rose to meet Russia and China at the top of the staircase.

It was taking all Russia had not to collapse, though all he had was his pipe.  What remained of his pant leg was soaked through with his blood, and his coat was spattered with it, too.  China wasn’t faring much better, with the arm of his shirt shredded open to reveal skin that was just as torn.

“Holy shit, what happened to you guys?” Prussia wondered, his voice a little slurred.

“Followed some bad advice,” Russia grunted out through gritted teeth.  He let out a groan of relief as Germany appeared by his side, helping him take most of the weight off his injured leg.  Together they hobbled to the nearest chair.  China followed close behind, and when he collapsed into a seat, the adrenaline that had been pumping through him began to fade, leaving only pain in its wake.

Japan was back in an instant with what remained of their ever-dwindling medical supplies.  These he placed on the table so that he and Germany could begin tending to the worst of their wounds.  He quietly tended to China’s arm while Germany grimaced at Russia’s mutilated leg.

Prussia slid a bottle of booze in front of Russia and clapped him on the shoulder.  “Looks like you need this more than I do,” he stated.  “Congratulations.”

“I’m surprised there’s any left,” Russia replied, voice hardly betraying the agony of having the hole in his leg disinfected and crudely sewn back together.  “You stink like a bar.”

A shrug was all Russia got in return.  For once, Prussia had nothing to say.

“You said you followed bad advice,” Japan remarked as he worked to stitch China’s gashes shut.  “Where did you get it?”

“I’d like to know the same thing,” said China, not once even wincing.  “You said you would explain once we solved the puzzle, and we have solved it, more or less.  So talk.”

By this time, America, England, France, and Canada had gathered around them to find out what had happened, which did little to soothe the feeling of being cornered that had sprung up in Russia’s chest.  

Russia exhaled slowly, mind growing hazy from the pain.  “I was talking to myself,” he said.

Japan stopped momentarily to frown up at Russia.  “That is hardly what I asked.”

Even China rolled his eyes.  “What is it that I was saying earlier about blatant lies?”

“But it is the truth,” Russia insisted.  “Though I know myself to be a liar.  That’s why the truth hurts so much,” he said with a little laugh, before he began to take several long gulps from the bottle Prussia gave him.  When he set it down, it was nearly empty.

“Christ, you’re not talking any sense at all,” England groaned.  “How much blood have you lost?”

“Not nearly enough,” Russia muttered as he pulled out his phone.  “Nobody say anything, yeah?”  Everyone looked on in bewilderment as Russia dialed a number and set the phone on the table so that everyone could hear it ring as it sent out its call.  On the fourth ring, a voice finally sounded over the other side.

“You’ve picked a bad time,” said Russia’s voice, tinny across the phone line.  There was stunned silence in the safe room.

“Is there such a thing as a good time in this place?” Russia replied, deadpan.  “Why did you tell me to pull the lever up?” he demanded, sounding a little irritated with himself.

“The same reason you told me we were dead.”

Faintly, the sounds of raised voices could be heard on the phone.  Russia took his time to respond.  “Have you found a way to send them back to us?”

“They seem content to try to save this timeline,” said the other Russia.  “After all, this chess board still has all its pieces.”

“Is that so,” Russia stated blankly.  “I wonder how long that will last.  Leave me your notes, if you can, and tell them that--well.  You know your fate.”

With the press of a button, the line went dead.


	10. Leaning

Russia pocketed his phone and refused to make eye contact with anybody.

“Dude,” America huffed out, face scrunched up in disbelief.  “ _ Dude _ \--”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us you had access to our past timelines?” Germany demanded, his hands stalling over Russia’s wounds.  

“Do you not think that would have been useful information for the rest of us to know?  Aren’t you going to tell us how it happens?” France scolded him, all the while gesticulating with a spoon he had taken from the kitchen. Flecks of soup were flying, which somehow made him look angrier. “If this could have saved Italy--”

“It couldn’t have!” Russia interrupted him.  Germany’s face was stony, and Japan had a dangerous glint in his eye.  “I swear it, it could not have prevented Italy’s death,” he repeated.  The glares subsided a little, which encouraged him to continue.  “It happened like this,” he started.  “A while back, I tried to call my sisters, and instead of them, I heard myself over the phone line.  At first I thought I had gone mad, that something in this mansion had broken something in my head,” he explained, eyes glassy.  “So of course I wasn’t about to reveal that to any of you.  But then these alternate versions of myself, as I had thought them, started telling me things I couldn’t have come up with myself.  Later, using what Italy told us, I realized that they were actually past versions of me.”  He took another gulp of beer.  “With that in mind, I started to ask my selves questions--I think I’ve gone through a dozen copies of myself by now.  Most of them weren’t useful, but a few of them were able to leave me notes about where they found clocks and whatever other helpful information they could find.”  Russia gestured with his head towards the pile of papers that had been taken from the annex.  “Nothing useful in that pile, mind you.  I don’t know why it happened, or how, so I can’t answer that.” he admitted finally.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner that you were getting this information?” Canada asked, a pensive frown on his face.  “We could have helped.”

“No, you really couldn’t have,” Russia countered. America looked like he was about to leap to Canada’s defense when Russia continued.  “It was already dangerous enough for me to interact with these past versions of myself.  What do you think could have happened if everyone else was trying to speak with their doubles over my cell phone?  Confusion and chaos, at the very least, and we didn’t need more of that.”

There was a brief pause during which nobody said anything, broken when Prussia huffed, “This is ridiculous.  I can’t fault you, but this is ridiculous.”

“I would have done the same, in his shoes,” China agreed as Japan tied off a bandage on his arm.  “But what can we do now?”

America eyed up the pile of notes on the table.  “You got more of those, right?” he asked Russia, who nodded.  “Why don’t we try to find whatever clocks you--er, past-you told us--now-you?  Geeze, my head hurts--about?”

“Finally, a plan,” Germany muttered, more than glad for an opportunity to go out and break things.  “Russia, tell us whatever you can, and all who are still able-bodied will go investigate.”

“I’ll go,” China volunteered, but as soon as he spoke, Japan put a hand on his shoulder.

“You should rest,” he said, though he wouldn’t meet China’s eyes.  “Russia can barely walk, and England could not possibly fight as he is now.  Someone should stay here with them.”

“I can stay with them,” America said suddenly, shifting on his feet.  He stole a glance at England before saying, “My shoulder still hurts from where that monster bit me, anyway.”  It wasn’t a total lie, after all.  “If China wants to go, I’ll stay here.  No need to thank me,” he said, putting on his best smile.

“You know,” said England, crossing his arms, “They say the blind have a heightened sense of hearing, so I wonder if that’s why I can so clearly hear the crap you’re talking.”  America opened his mouth to retaliate, but England wasn’t having it.  “I know you’re allergic to admitting weakness, so you definitely have some other reason for not wanting to go out, and I feel like I know what it is.”

“You don’t--!”

“Go with them, America,” England insisted.  “I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t very often that someone called America out so directly, so Canada and France were savoring every moment.  After floundering for a comeback and coming up empty, America huffed and stalked away, muttering something about going to get his gun, then, asshole.

“I heard that.”

“Good!”

Japan suppressed a sigh.  “That is all well and good,” he said, turning his attention back to China.  “But it does not change the fact that you should stay behind.  You could tear your stitches, at the very least.”

China’s shoulders slumped.  “Alright,” he said finally.  “I will stay here with Russia and England.  Just…” He looked down and away.  “Be careful.”

A wry grin wound its way onto Prussia’s lips even as Japan gave a short nod.  “Aww, West, look at ‘em all,” Prussia crowed, slapping an arm around Germany’s shoulders.  “Don’t you want to join the party and say something sweet to your big bro?  Show me how much you care?”

Germany stopped tending to Russia’s leg and looked up at Prussia thoughtfully, his lips pressed into a firm line.  “Now that I think about it,” he said, resuming his ministrations.  “No.”

“Harsh.”

When everyone had sufficiently prepared, there was a brief conference around the table during which Russia shared his findings. They were few, but a task was a task, and soon, groups were formed.

“I will take America and Canada with me,” France volunteered.  “We can go dispose of the clocks upstairs.  Does that sound suitable?”  There was a smattering of mumbled agreement.  “Very well,” said France.  “That leaves you three, no?”  His eyes glanced between Prussia, Japan, and Germany.

“I suppose it does,” said Japan, not unhappy with the arrangement.

“We can take out that monster you two left down there, no sweat,” Prussia boasted.  “We could take on ten!”  He was quite frankly a little buzzed, and it was showing.

Germany rolled his eyes at his brother.  “If I didn’t know you better, I would say that you should stay here and sleep it off, but given your history with bar fights…”

France snorted, amused at the memories.

“I’m not drunk!” Prussia exclaimed, waving them off.  “But if I was, I’d still be able to take out twenty of those things with one hand.”

“The body count has doubled, along with his hubris,” Japan sighed.  “We should get going, then, before it multiplies further.”

Everyone stood, then, except for Russia, China, and England, who had no need.  While China was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to finish the puzzle of the annex himself, the opportunity for a hot bath and some relaxation was becoming more and more appealing by the minute.  

Russia bid everyone good luck and settled deeper into his seat to watch Japan, Germany, and Prussia gather their few supplies before they left.  He wouldn’t be moving for a long while if he could help it, except perhaps to go to bed.  For once, he did not envy the others a task to complete.  The tasks that had been his and his alone for so long were now someone else’s cares.  His secrets had been spilled, and yet nobody seemed to think any differently of him.  In fact, they trusted him, at least enough to take his advice.  That was new.

Canada and America had already gone down the stairs, too, and France would have been right behind them had England not called him back.  “France?  Are you still there?”

“Yes, what is it?”  France called back, a little concerned.

France’s voice filled England with great relief that he’d caught him in time.  “I’d like a quick word with you, if you could come back here for a moment.”  He heard France’s footsteps, and when a hand landed on his shoulder, he continued.  “Be careful, alright?  Take care of them, too.  Keep an eye on America especially.  You’ve seen how reckless he’s been lately.”

A light laugh bubbled out from between France’s lips.  “I could say the same for you,” he teased, but continued before England could argue.  “I will watch him with two eyes, one for you, and one for me, old friend.”

Though he smiled, England did his best to sound hurt when he said, “Was that a blind joke? How tasteless.”

“I would not dream of it!”

“Right,” England laughed.  “Seriously though, watch yourselves out there.”

France gripped England’s shoulder tightly for a beat before he stood.  “Nothing will get past big brother France!” he assured England, even as he walked away.  “I will make sure we all get back in one piece!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” England called after him as he walked down the stairs.  Just as France reached for the doorknob, he caught one last faint utterance.  “Bring them back.”  The words were spoken like a secret.  “You all are all I have.”


	11. Echoes

“I thought you were loud sober,” Japan complained.  Every time Prussia’s voice boomed into an empty room or hallway, he had to wonder how many monsters had been summoned.  Considering they had only just left, the number of times that this particular worry had already wormed its way into Japan’s head was rather troubling in and of itself.

“I am loud sober,” Prussia assured him, a little lost as to why his friend would make such a silly statement.  “You’re not forgetting about me, are you, Japan?” 

“I could never,” Japan replied quickly, unused to the distress evident on Prussia’s face.

Germany was beginning to wonder if he had miscounted the number of beers his brother had downed within the past hour.

“‘S good,” Prussia nodded.  Much too quietly, he added, “I knew they were wrong.”

“Who?” Germany asked, concerned.

“Who what?” Prussia replied, realizing his mistake a little too late and doing his best to cover it up.  He might not be completely sober, but he wasn’t about to tell his brother or Japan about the voices just yet.

Germany stared at him and said, “Maybe we should have left you with the others.”

“Come on, West,” Prussia groaned.  “Okay, I probably did overindulge on the beer, but I can still fight!” he argued.  “I’m not even that drunk.  I’m world’s-a-bit-funny drunk, not world’s-falling-over drunk.”

“As long as you are not throw-yourself-at-every-enemy drunk, I think you might survive,” Japan wearily stated.

This seemed to subdue Prussia somewhat, and the three of them continued to follow the trail of blood China and Russia had made during their escape.  It grew thicker and thicker the closer they got to the annex until finally they reached a small puddle of it at the entrance.  They paused there, and for one sickening moment, they could hear blood dripping down the stairs.“This looks like something from a horror movie,” Germany stated with a shiver. 

“The creature is already wounded,” said Japan.  “The three of us should be able to dispose of it with no trouble.”

“Totally,” Prussia agreed.

Still, none of them made a move for the stairs.  

“Do you think it’s even down there, still?”

“Don’t be a chicken, West,” Prussia replied.  “Come on, who here hasn’t seen a little blood?  Let’s go kill it already.”  With that, he drew his sword and began the descent into the darkness of the annex.

Not fully trusting him to be by himself, Japan and Germany hurried after Prussia and likewise readied their weapons.  As they tiptoed down the stairs, they could hear something lurching deeper in the annex.  Whatever it was took ragged breaths that sounded like a pipe being dragged across concrete.  If they didn’t know any better, they might think Russia was still down there, making the cryptic sounds they heard.  Rather, they knew it to be something much less friendly.

As quietly as they could, they crept closer and closer to the source of the noise.  With every step they took, the terrible wheezing grew louder, and the grips they held on their weapons tightened.  Like shadows they sneaked up to where the splintered remains of a door rested, and though they could not from that angle see into the room, they knew without a doubt that that was where the beast waited.

“Can’t escape… can’t escape…”

Prussia looked to his companions for a reaction, but he found none.  Though everyone listened, it seemed, the words had made themselves apparent to nobody else.  

Still, the monster groaned just inside the room.  They stood there at the threshold for several tumultuous heartbeats, and then, at Germany’s signal, they darted into the room, weapons raised.  

The blood splattered all over the room barely caught their attention as the creature that had drawn it let out a horrible scream at the sight of them.  Even with one severed, dripping stump in place of a hand, it came at them with its remaining claws poised to strike.  

Pure rage swept through Prussia, Japan, and Germany like a fierce wind at the sight of it.  Because of this creature and those like it, their friends were injured.  Prussia hacked at its claws.  Because of these things, they lived in fear.  Japan slashed at its eyes.  Because of these them, Italy was dead, and Germany had a mind to return the favor.  He tangled its claw up in his whip as Japan and Prussia cleaved through the creature’s sides like a pair of shears.  The thing disappeared with a cry like torn steel, leaving the three of them victorious.

“Congratulations,” Prussia heard.  “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Damn right it was,” he muttered, panting.

Germany glanced at him and said, “You’re talking to yourself again.”

Prussia put on a smile for his brother and said, “You know I’m a chatty drunk.”  Germany did not argue with that.

Now that there was not a deadly beast looming in the room, Japan had begun to explore it.  “This must be the lever Russia was talking about,” he said, stepping around a puddle of congealing blood to get to it.  “Do you think we should pull it the other way?” he asked, looking to Germany and Prussia for their input. 

“We must think about this very carefully,” said Germany as Prussia went to examine the lever.  “Is it possible that more of those monsters will appear if we pull it the other way?  Or has the trap already been sprung? Perhaps there is some kind of clue, or maybe it is that--”

By the time Germany had considered these few options, Prussia had already yanked the lever up, much to Japan and Germany’s alarm and dismay.  There was a great rumbling as Japan prepared himself for another battle.  The three of them swiveled their heads around, frantically searching for the source of the noise, when the far wall collapsed into a pile of bricks which sent several plumes of dust rolling through the air.

The dust sent the three of them into coughing fits, but they still searched blindly for enemies in the haze as the flying dirt stung at their eyes and throats.  When they could all breathe and see clearly again, they found no enemies.  To the contrary, they discovered that the room had nearly doubled in size when the wall fell.  It had been transformed into something resembling a wide hallway, rather than a room.  At the end of the chamber, there stood a few empty shelves, some cobweb-draped furniture, and an ancient grandfather clock.

Something about the clock drew them in towards it, and before any of them realized it, they stood around it in a semicircle.

“This clock feels… important,” said Germany, staring up at its face with an almost reverent weight in his gut.

Prussia scoffed.  “It’s just another clock, West,” he said.  “We should--”

“Destroy it,” a voice whispered in his ear.

He shivered.  “We should break it.”

“Wait,” Germany exclaimed, feeling panicked for reasons he couldn’t articulate.  “We can’t do that--”

“Why not?” Prussia demanded.  “It’s a clock! We have to destroy it!  What’s so--”  
“I don’t understand,” Japan interrupted them, and they stared at him in confusion.  “Why are you arguing about breaking a clock that is already broken?”

There was a beat of silence.  “Japan,” said Germany.  “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?” Japan answered indignantly.  “Look at the clock, Germany!  Don’t you see the rather large crack winding down its center?  And its face is nearly completely shattered!  Surely you must agree that this clock is broken!”

The brothers stared back at him, blinking.  “Japan, there’s nothing wrong with the clock,” Prussia explained.  “Can’t you hear it ticking?”

“What? No, I...” When Japan looked back at the clock, it stood against the wall, whole and undamaged. 

_ Tick, tick, tick. _

Japan shook his head and backed away in disbelief.  “It was just broken, I swear it!” he insisted.

“O--Okay, calm down,” said Germany as he went to Japan’s side.  “I… believe that you saw that,” he said, placing a hand on Japan’s shoulder.  “But I promise you, this clock has been in one piece since the moment we laid eyes on it.”

Despite Japan’s crisis, Prussia found himself bouncing impatiently.  “It doesn’t matter,” he said.  “We have to break it.  We need to.”  When neither Germany nor Japan moved to destroy the clock, Prussia huffed and took out his sword.  “You know what? I’ll do it--”

“Brother, wait!”

“What the hell is your problem, West?” Prussia demanded.  “The sooner this thing is in little pieces on the floor, the better.  Japan had the right idea.”

“I’m telling you, this clock is different!” Germany argued.

“And what makes you think that?  Huh?”

“I.. I don’t know!” he growled.  “But Japan is seeing things, just like he did by Italy’s body, and I don’t feel right about breaking this clock!” 

Prussia was about to counter when Japan said, “Wait… Italy…  Didn’t Italy say that he turned back time using the hands on a big clock?”

The three of them looked up at the clock’s face and were overtaken by a wave of realization.

“We… could try?” Prussia suggested.  “Maybe if we turned back time, Italy could…”

He didn’t finish his thought.  Germany had already taken a step towards the clock.  His hand was extended towards its face.  

_ Tick, tick, tick. _

Prussia and Japan held their breath.  Closing his eyes, Germany grabbed a hand and nudged it down.

Nothing happened.

Each of them let out the breath they had been holding, though whether it was from relief or disappointment, no one was sure.

“If this is truly that clock,” said Japan, “then Italy really is the only one who can turn back time.”

The clock ticked on.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Prussia began slowly, “But we could bring Italy here and try.  If it doesn’t work, we’ll break it.”

At first, the idea horrified Japan and Germany, but the more they considered it, the more it seemed like their only true hope of saving Italy and escaping.  With this grim new possibility in mind, the three of them turned towards the door, and the old grandfather clock watched them go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying the story so far? Hating every word? I'd love to hear what you think! Comments are my lifeblood.


	12. Pastimes

“Look,” America told France and Canada as they walked down the hall, “I just didn’t want him to be alone with Russia, okay?”

“You’re full of it!” France huffed.

America rolled his eyes.  “If you think I’m lying, then tell me why you think I wanted to stay,” he demanded.  “Go on.  I’ll wait.”

“I don’t think you’re lying, I know it,” France insisted.  “You’ve already changed your story once, or have you forgotten how England called you out on it already?” he teased.

“You still don’t have a good reason to doubt me now!”

“I think you feel guilty,” Canada smugly proposed, a knowing gleam in his eyes.  “That’s why you haven’t left his side.”

America groaned and tugged at his hair.  “What’s with you two?” he whined.  “God, I wish one of those monsters would show up just so you guys would have something better to do than psychoanalyze me, or whatever.”

France and Canada both knew exactly when to back off and stop pressing America’s buttons before things crossed a rather unpleasant line.  For Canada, the outburst had only proved him right, and France was likewise smiling despite the eeriness of the mansion’s bone-white walls.  

France’s smile faltered when he considered the whole of their situation.  America was so frustratingly stubborn that not a day went by when he didn’t see England reflected in the boy’s eyes, and he worried that that stubbornness was what would do them in.

The three were quiet as they trudged down the halls until Canada spoke.  “I wonder…” he muttered, lost in thought.

“What?” America asked.

Canada bit his lip.  “Do you think, if we get out of here--”

“Once, mon cher,” France corrected him.  “Once we get out of here.  Please continue.”

“O-Oh.  Right,” Canada nodded.  “Once we get out of here, do you think we’ll ever really be… okay?  Like we were before all this happened?”

“Of course we’ll be okay,” came America’s immediate dismissal.  “Yeah, everyone’s pretty torn up about Italy, but we’ll be fine,” he said with a self-assured nod.  “I know I’m fine.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” Canada replied.

“Says who?  What, do you want me to fall in a heap of star-spangled anguish or something?” came America’s tart response.  “Not everyone can wallow in self-pity all day.  Just because you suck at dealing with this stuff doesn’t mean--”

“Oh, you think I suck at dealing with things?”  Canada retorted, incredulous.  “Hey, that’s fine.  I’m not the one putting on a pathetic front, pretending I don’t have feelings.”

“Boys, that is enough!” France interjected, stepping between the brothers.  “These past few days have been nothing short of horrific for all of us, and everyone deals with things differently.  There are enough things in this mansion trying to cut us down, so I refuse to stand by and watch you two go at each other’s throats!”  It wasn’t until both looked sufficiently sheepish that he continued.  “Now, if you can be civil, we have a job to do.”

Nobody said anything else until they found the room they were looking for.  “If Russia is right...” France muttered, striding up to the couch.  He unceremoniously jammed his fist between the seat cushions and fished out an old bronze pocket watch.  “Just like he said!” he exclaimed with a grin, eyeing up the little thing.  “I don’t think we would have found this one in an age!  Such a pretty one, too.  I would keep it if we didn’t have to break it,” he said, almost regretfully.  “Are you two ready?”

Of course, neither America nor Canada were truly ready to witness the horrible fragments of memory that were sure to come, but they nodded anyway.  Without another moment’s hesitation, France dropped the watch to the ground and crushed it beneath his heel.

And then--

Somewhere, England was bleeding out on the foot of a stairwell, begging them to leave him behind.  His eyes rolled back before he could finish his last plea.

Somewhere else, Italy hid in the safe room.  Nobody was left to get him out.

Somewhere else, Russia wasn’t fighting back, even as America hit him over and over again.  France hurled into a bucket.  Japan was struggling to keep Germany calm, and Italy, oh, Italy, had eyes that were so far away, so resigned.

Somewhere else, China’s leg was being torn off, but he was alive.  Elsewhere, he was not.

Somewhere else, Italy reached out for an old grandfather clock with a trembling hand, looking more afraid than he ever had before.

Somewhere else, the sun was shining, and there was so much blood.

These and a dozen more sights splintered into endless possibilities behind their eyes until one by one, France, America, and Canada came around, blinking, trembling, holding themselves against the things they had seen.

“Is--Is everyone okay?” Canada croaked, his eyes wide and his cheeks pale.

“Yeah,” America numbly replied. “Yeah.  France?”

France staggered over to the couch before his legs gave up their support.

“France?  Are you with us?”

“I…” he stammered out.  “I... “

“Papa, what is it?”

“I saw us outside,” he finally forced out.  “I don’t… I don’t know what it means…”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” America asked hopefully.  “Doesn’t that mean that we might make it outside?”

France shook his head.  “There was carnage.”

“Oh,” Canada breathed.  “Do we… Do we even want to know who was dead?”

A faint laugh escaped France’s lips.  “It really is like a bad dream,” he said with a hollow smile.  “I can’t remember.”

“Just a bad dream,” America sighed.  “The things we saw don’t have to happen, right?  They’re just possibilities, right?”

“Right,” Canada hesitantly agreed.

The floorboards creaked as France got to his feet.  “We still have a few more stops to make,” he noted, swallowing down the reluctance in his heart.  “Shall we go?”

If the three of them were a little more watchful of each other’s backs for the rest of their mission, nobody mentioned it.


	13. Farewell

“Does anyone have a clue where we’re going?” Romano exclaimed as he and the others darted down the hall as fast as their legs would carry them.  A writhing mass of grey monsters were tumbling after them like a storm cloud, and the air was just as electric.

England didn’t hesitate for a moment before he shouted, “The annex!  If we get there fast enough, we’ll lose them.”

Screeching metallic screams made the hairs on the backs of their necks stand on end, even as they started to sweat from the run.  Prussia, especially, was feeling the toll on his body of carrying Canada while maintaining a sprint.  As fit as he was, his muscles were beginning to strain so that by the time they were nearing the annex’s entrance, he was gritting his teeth against the ache.  

In his arms, Canada couldn’t take his eyes off the horrors that chased them despite his every instinct telling him to hide or run or scream.

Being the first to arrive there, Spain stood at the entrance of the annex with his axe drawn, ready to defend the rest of them as they launched themselves down the stairs.  If the monsters were to catch up to them, he knew he’d never be able to take on all of them by himself, but he would be damned if he didn’t try.  

England was the first down the stairs.  When he ran to the bottom, however, his foot landed on something wet and squishy.  He was unable to correct his balance in time and fell so hard that the wind was knocked from his lungs.  Not even the sensation of his own magic rushing into him was enough to overpower the heavy ache of having just slammed into a concrete floor.

He hadn’t even gasped for breath by the time Russia had pulled him up and was toting him like a sack of potatoes through the winding halls of the annex at full speed.  “Not a great time to trip,” Russia huffed out, struggling for breath himself.  

A glance over Russia’s shoulder told England that the rest of their party had cleared the stairs, even Spain, who kept shooting worried glances over his own shoulder.  Canada looked particularly pale, though England would never know if it was the fear or the blood loss.  

“Spain! Did we lose them?” Romano shouted over the clamor of their footfall.

“Uh,” said Spain.  “Maybe?”

A slew of profanities filled the air.  “The fuck do you mean, maybe?” Romano demanded.

“Just keep running!” 

They ran until they reached a storage room at the end of the halls, and when everyone was inside, they shut and locked the door behind themselves.  There was a moment of panting and leaning against walls after they all skidded to a halt, but the moment was short lived.  Russia barely had time to set England back on his feet when the sound of tearing metal resonated through the room.  At the other side of the room stood a looming grey monster which seemed rather lazy about approaching them.

“Damn it, can’t we get a break?” England groaned.  “There’s only one this time, so we can take it if we work together!”

Russia, Spain, Romano and England rushed the monster with their weapons drawn, but Prussia instead darted over to a nearby shelf and set Canada down to sag against it.  “You can sit this one out,” he said with a winning grin as he pulled out his sword and whirled to face the monster.  Canada didn’t like that he couldn’t see it from where he was sitting, but he didn’t have the strength to pull himself around to the other side of the shelf, either.  All he could do was sit and watch the door and listen to his friends fight.

He wasn’t sure, then, if the stress of the moment was playing tricks on his eyes, or whether the door was actually shaking.  “Guys,” he called out, but his weak voice was lost in the noise of battle.  He opened his mouth to try again, but what came out was a silent scream of terror as the door was blown apart, and a line of monsters came pouring in.

Spain finished off the first monster with a swing of his axe just as he and the others turned to the door in horror.  He counted up six of them.  “Everybody take one!” he commanded, already dashing into the fray.  “Boss Spain will take the two small fries in the back!”

The others charged in after him, each setting his eyes on a different beast.  Canada held his breath as chaos erupted all around him.  He watched England cast a spell before his eyes were pulled to Spain, who had just bashed one of the things in its head with his axe.  Prussia and Romano stood back to back as they battled their pair of monsters, which were rapidly closing in, and Russia was--

Russia was on the phone.  

He was entertaining one of the beasts, yes, but nevertheless, he was on the phone.  Canada couldn’t believe it.  Russia was circling the thing as if it were a statue at a museum, his sword in one hand and his phone in the other.

“They seem content to try to save this timeline,” Canada heard him say through the clamor of his friends fighting for their lives.  “After all, this chess board still has all its pieces.”

If there was more to the conversation, Canada didn’t hear it, because the next moment Romano was shouting, “Get up! Prussia, you bastard, I need you!”

“I haven’t given up!”  Prussia was trying desperately to get up off the floor, but when he finally made it to his feet, one of the monsters he was battling sent him flying backwards with one effortless blow to his chest.  There was a sickening crack as Prussia collided head-first with the shelf Canada was sheltering behind.  In the same moment, the shelf came crashing over on top of Canada, leaving him pinned.  

Canada yelled out in pain and despair, “Prussia!”

There was no response.  Canada wriggled desperately, but even then was too weak to move more than just his head.  When he craned his neck far enough, he could see Prussia’s hand twitching in unnatural, mechanical jerks from where it was draped over the side of the shelf.

Somehow Canada knew he was gone.

Shouts of alarm went up from the others when Prussia didn’t move again, but they didn’t even have time to consider that he might be dead before they were pulled back into the tide of battle.

“Don’t you turn away from me!”  Romano was shooting angrily into the back of the monster which had knocked Prussia down, but it was more interested in its kill.  Romano would have chased it down, but there was still a beast trying to slash open his throat.  Tears pricked at Romano’s eyes as he gave up on Prussia to defend himself, barely holding on.

Canada watched in terror as the monster lurched towards him.  Surely someone would help him.  He looked past the monster at his friends.  Spain had rushed to Romano’s side to fill the hole Prussia had left.  Russia was slashing at his beast, phone nowhere to be seen, and the beast was clawing at him just as angrily.  England was nearest to him, but he had already sustained several injuries and was struggling to fend off the monster that was trying to destroy him.

He decided to stay very still.  That had worked before, hadn’t it?  If he could just stay still, and stay quiet--but the monster was closer now, and it had blood on its claws, and then it was standing so close that he could see the lumps in its grotesque flesh.  Canada trembled as it reached down, too afraid to close his eyes, but it didn’t reach for him.  It screeched as it took Prussia into its claws, and Canada could only stare into Prussia’s dull eyes as the monster brought Prussia to its mouth.

Then Prussia blinked, and a tear fell from his face, and Canada screamed.  

He kept screaming, even as Prussia’s blood sprayed down over him and dripped onto the floor, even as the monster flung Prussia aside to peer down at him with the void it carried in place of eyes, and he screamed louder still when it hooked a claw through his chest.  

England screamed, then, too.  “Somebody help him!” he begged, but the monster he fought would not give him an inch.  “Canada!  Please!”  Nobody went.  Nobody could.

Between desperate slashes and spells at the beast looming over him, England watched as Canada was hoisted from the rubble, still screaming, when the monster began to tear him limb from limb.

Only when the monster’s chin was stained with Canada’s blood did the screaming stop.

Nothing felt real, anymore.  England would not have survived had Russia not come to his aid in the next moment. The others very soon found victory over their enemies, but too late, much too late.  Not two minutes after Prussia and Canada had been torn to shreds did the rest of them kill the monster who did it.  Whereas the monsters disappeared, the remains of their fallen friends were still scattered across the floor.

“Canada?” England muttered, numb, not sure where to rest his eyes.  

Spain’s axe fell to the bloodstained floor with a clatter, and Spain himself fell to his knees beside it.  “Prussia…”

Russia and Romano stood back and did nothing but feel incredibly sick.

“We… we have to clean up,” England muttered in a dreamlike stupor.  “Help me pick it up,” he said, putting a hand on the bookshelf.  Russia wasn’t sure why he bothered, but he helped England tip the shelf back into a standing position.  The blood that pooled at their feet outlined where the edges of the bookshelf had lain before.  Somehow, picking up the shelf had only made the mess worse.

“We knew our fate,” Russia said blankly.  “This timeline couldn’t be the one, but…” he looked to Spain and Romano.  “There is another.”

England went then to sit by the shelf, not caring that he was squatting in a puddle of blood.  “You two,” he barked, not looking at anyone in particular.  “When I send you back, you can’t let this happen again.”  He was beginning to tremble.  “This is the last time!” he shouted, tears filling his eyes.  “When I send you back,” he repeated, trying to keep his composure, “Look for me. I’ll be right here.  I’ll be right here with them.”

Light began to shine beneath England’s skin, and Russia watched as Spain and Romano disappeared in a bolt of lightning.  He met England’s eyes for only a moment, and then there was a final burst of blinding light.  When Russia opened his eyes again, England was gone, and in his place was his magic that was seeping into the floor, mixing in with the blood of his friends.

The only remaining witness to the catastrophe, then, was Russia.  He turned to leave the annex and began to guess at how quickly Italy would be able to turn back time, or if he would even be alive to see that happen.  Somehow, he doubted it.


	14. Giving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get cozy, this one's a bit lengthy.

Everything was numb, except for the cold, unyielding floor that pressed harshly against his knees.  Somewhere in Spain’s reeling mind he registered a flash of light, and that very suddenly all the blood that had been surrounding him was gone.  Where had it all gone?  Where were England and Russia? That had been right there.  Then again, so had Prussia and Canada, but they were equally absent.  Spain could only guess where they were now.

“Hey, get up.”  Romano’s voice was heavy and wet, but it was enough to pull Spain back to reality.

“I couldn’t save them.”  The words fell from Spain’s mouth unbidden.  “I couldn’t save any of them,” he breathed.  “I was so useless.”

“Hey, are you deaf?” Romano said with a sniffle.  “I said get up.  There was nothing you could have done about them, got it?  It wasn’t your fault.  That timeline was doomed to begin with, damn it, so there’s no sense in you beating yourself up over not conquering fate itself with your axe.”  He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand before offering it to Spain.  “Come on.  Get up.”

Spain took a deep breath before he took Romano’s hand and, very slowly, got to his feet.  “Thanks,” he muttered, all the while trying his best to put on a smile.  “England said, uh,” he cleared his throat.  “He said to… to look for him, right?” 

“Yeah,” said Romano, who had begun to pace around the gloomy annex.  “He said, ‘I’ll be right here with them,’ whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean,” he explained, trying to block out the memory of Canada’s screams.  “Too damned ominous, if you ask me.”

“Well, he was sitting over by that bookshelf,” Spain sighed.  The shelf was off-kilter from the rest, just as it had been in the other timeline, except there was no evidence of it having ever been damaged at all.  He paced over to the bookshelf and examined it closely.  On the shelves were nothing but dusty books and a few odds and ends, but as his eyes scanned the bottom shelf, Spain noticed that there was a bead of wetness poking out from beneath the bookshelf.

Romano saw it, too, and with a little effort, the two of them slid the shelf away.

The strange wetness was at first indistinct, like a stain or puddle, but as soon as the weight had been removed, it began to rise up from the ground.  The wetness collected into beads, which then bound themselves together in gelatinous lumps.

“I guess we found England,” said Romano, feeling very hollow inside all of a sudden.

More and more magic bubbled up out of the ground like a fountain until there was a pile of it stacked as high as Romano’s hip.  Not until there was a mound as large as three men did the outpouring finally stop.  Spain scooped up one of the tiny lumps to examine it more closely.

“It’s so warm,” he noted.  “Squishy, too.  And it feels kind of lonely, somehow, and it’s...” He went silent for a second.  “It’s all red.”  Just as he had said, every lump of magic shined faintly crimson in the dim light of the annex.  Spain let out a dry laugh and said, “Looks like we found Canada and Prussia, too.”

They both stood there in silence until Romano suddenly exclaimed, “It’s not fair, dammit!”

“Woah, hey!” came Spain’s startled response.  “What are you talking about?”

“They didn’t fucking deserve this!” Romano’s knuckles were white where they gripped his sleeves.  “Not Canada, not Prussia, not England, and sure as hell not my stupid little brother!”  By this point, tears were brimming up in his eyes again, and he was beginning to tremble.

Spain sighed and said, “We don’t know about Italy, for sure.  He might not be--”

“Don’t you dare say that!  Don’t you dare say that to me!” Romano yelled back.  “Don’t give me that hope.  I know he’s dead and gone and I never…” he hiccupped and choked back a sob.  “I never even got to see him, in that other timeline, even just to… even just to say g-goodbye.”

In a heartbeat, Spain was rubbing soothing circles into Romano’s back and holding him close as he tried to pull himself back together.  Spain could only imagine how hard it would be to lose a brother.  A wave of shame washed over him, then.  Just minutes ago, he had been accepting comfort from the one he should have been comforting.  He had lost a dear friend in Prussia, yes, but Prussia was still alive, at least in this timeline.

Wasn’t he?

Spain cleared his throat and said, “We need to find the others.”

“Yeah.”  Romano sniffled in his arms and nodded, pulling away.  “What should we do with… with England?” he said with a half-hearted gesture towards the pile of magic on the floor. 

Spain gave it some thought before he replied, “This timeline’s England may not even be alive anymore.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Romano muttered.  “He wouldn’t abandon us in some alternate timeline for no reason.  He’s not cruel.”  For a fleeting moment he wondered whether the thing that had gotten his brother had taken England’s life, too.  “Let’s leave it.”

They did not make it far until Prussia’s voice bounced towards them from down the hall.  A genuine smile cracked Spain’s face, and he broke into a run.  Romano simply trailed after him.

Spain rounded a corner and nearly impaled himself on Japan’s sword in the process.  Japan tensed, ready to strike, before his eyes widened, and he paused.  “Spain?” he breathed.  “You… you both see him as well, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Germany replied slowly, “But, how did…”

“I didn’t think I was that drunk,” came Prussia’s stunned response.

“Oh, thank God,” was all Spain managed by way of an answer before he pushed past Japan and yanked Prussia into a hug.  He didn’t ask why he smelled of alcohol.

Prussia hugged back, entirely bewildered, but also starting to feel relief from the worry that Spain would never make it back.  A sloppy grin found its way onto his face as he said, “Good t’ see you too, buddy.”

“I’m alive too, if anybody cares,” Romano sighed when he, too, rounded the corner.

“Romano!” Japan exclaimed.  He thought it cruel that for a heartbeat, he had thought he had seen Italy instead.

“How did you two make it back here?” Germany insisted.

Spain and Romano both went still.  “We can tell you more about it later,” Spain said, “but for now, I guess you could say that England helped us get back.”

“England?” Prussia wondered.  “But he’s…”  His eyes went wide with realization, and his heart sank. “Wait, you don’t know about…”

“I know Veneziano is dead,” Romano said, his voice dry.  “I felt it in my heart, even there.”  Silence followed.  Japan and Germany grew heavy with the sense of loss that that statement had brought with it, while Prussia stared at a spot on the wall.  “So,” Romano stated, “is England dead too?”

“No,” Germany cleared his throat.  “No, he’s alive, but he was blinded while trying to--Ah, we should talk about this somewhere safer.”

“Agreed,” said Japan.  “We have accomplished our objective, so we should head back to the others.”

“So everyone else is still alive?” Spain asked hopefully as they proceeded to the annex’s exit together.

“Barely,” Prussia huffed.  As they mounted the stairs, he pointed out the trail of blood they had followed to their target.  “One of of those things tried to rip off Russia’s leg, and China’s arm, too.”  After a moment of thought he cheerfully added, “We killed it, though, don’t you worry.”

“That’s good,” Spain replied, though suddenly he couldn’t rid himself of the memory of watching Prussia getting torn apart so brutally.  He tried to focus on the drops of blood on the floor ahead of him, but it didn’t help much.  “For a while, we weren’t sure if we would make it, either,” he finally said, unable to stand the silence.

“Well, we’re here, whether we want to be or not,” Romano bit out.  “What else did we miss while we were gone?”

“I must confess,” said Japan, “I am not entirely sure myself.  So much has happened, and it does not help that I have been…” he exhaled deeply.  “My senses have been deceiving me, as of late, and I am not sure at all that I can even begin to explain what we have learned about Russia.”

“Russia’s been talking to himself,” Prussia whispered conspiratorially.  This he followed up with a wheezy giggle.

An air of confusion surrounded Spain and Romano then.  With a sigh, Germany endeavored to clear it.  “For reasons unknown to even himself, Russia has been able to have telephone conversations with versions of himself from other timelines,” he explained.  “The details are a mystery to me, but through this correspondence, he was able to connect with the Russia from the timeline you two just escaped.”

“Well that explains some things, ” Spain said.  “It’s true, Russia was on the phone a couple of times while we were there.”

“Even when we were supposed to be fighting, the lazy bastard,” Romano spat.

Japan frowned and said, “Now we know why, at least.”

Romano gave a vague grunt of assent, and nobody else felt compelled to defend Russia, so the five of them continued on through several passages in relative silence.  Even Prussia found himself quiet, though he kept hearing the voice from the annex echoing in his mind, telling him over and over to destroy that old grandfather clock.  He huffed a laugh; maybe the voices were his, he thought to himself.  Maybe it had been his own voice in his head this whole time!  He laughed again.  He didn’t know why he did this, and so he laughed even harder until he had tears in his eyes and his stomach ached.

Naturally, none of the others knew why Prussia laughed, either, and none of them found it nearly so funny as greatly disturbing.  “I should never have let you come with us, as drunk as you are,” Germany stated, quickly growing irritated with his brother.  “Is there something amusing about this situation?”

In lieu of a response, Prussia doubled over and hugged his middle.  Tears were flowing freely now and his mouth was contorted into a painful grin.  Prussia gasped for air between his cackles as his mind was filled with the terrifying, hopeless awareness that he was falling apart.

“N-No,” he forced out, wheezing for breath.  The others only stood and stared.  “Nothing--It’s nothing,” he managed to say before he descended into another brief fit of giggles.

He probably would have continued for quite some time had Germany not slapped him across the face, then.  “If it is nothing, then act like it!” Germany demanded.  Though there were anger and frustration painted across his face, there was, underlying it all, a fearful concern that could not be hidden.

Prussia sucked in a breath and stood straighter, wincing.  “Oooooow,” he complained, rubbing his cheek.  The hollow laughter had gone from him, however, and for that he was grateful.  His mind had cleared, too, somewhat, so he took a deep breath and released it.  “I’m okay,” he told Germany, looking him in the eye.  “I’ll be okay.  Really.”

Germany held his gaze for a long second before he looked away and continued down the hall, saying nothing.  Japan, Spain, and Romano followed after him, all relieved that Prussia had managed to collect himself, but still very perturbed by the display.  Prussia took up the rear of their party, this time, and allowed himself some space to further clear his head.

Not much time had passed before the five of them rounded a corner and found themselves facing France, Canada, and America from the opposite end of the hallway.  America was the first to notice the two returning members of their group.  “Hey!  Look who’s back!” he called out, waving his uninjured arm above his head in greeting just as Canada let out a gasp of surprise.  “Long time, no see!”

France immediately dashed towards them and all but tackled both Spain and Romano to the floor in one joyful embrace.

“You’re alive!  Both of you!” France exclaimed, his eyes getting misty.  “You’re really back!  I thought for sure that you were lost, but--oh, mes amies, how did you manage to return here?”

Despite his mood, Romano couldn’t keep a small smile from his face.  “Hey, get off me,” he mumbled, pulling away from the embrace Spain and France still shared.  “We were going to wait to tell about that when we were all together, so you’ll have to wait.”

By now Spain wore a smile brighter than the sun.  “We’ll definitely swap stories later!” he promised France, clapping him on the back a few times before he looked past him and locked eyes with Canada.  “It’s good to see you in one piece, too.”  Romano watched the exchange silently, trying to ease the tightness in his chest.

“Me?” Canada asked.  “I mean… you too, Spain.”

“You guys caught us at a good time,” America cut in before Canada had too much time to dwell on Spain’s strange concern.  “We were just about to go break the last clock Russia told us about.  Wanna come with?”

“Sounds fun to me,” said Prussia.  “We finally shut up that thing in the annex, so we have all the time in the world.”

America blinked.  “Shut it up?”

“Ignore him,” Germany sighed. “He’s drunk.”

“It might be safest if we all stayed together for now,” Japan suggested.  “Why don’t we go together and break the clock before returning to the others?”

There was a murmur of agreement, and France took this as his cue to lead everybody down the hall to the room that reportedly contained the clock.   

“Russia’s notes were kind of unclear about this one,” Canada said as they entered the rather large room.  “All we know is that it’s probably in here, somewhere.”

“The first one to find it gets to smash it!” America called out as he crossed the room to begin his search.

Prussia raced after him and declared, “I’ll take that as a challenge!” 

“That’s the spirit,” France snorted.  He and Canada began searching under furniture.  Nearby, Japan and Germany scanned the bookshelves while Spain and Romano started rifling through drawers.

With the room blanketed by so many people, it was not long at all before the clock was unearthed. Romano found it in a drawer filled with rusty old keys and bent nails and spent light bulbs.  “Found it,” he announced, fishing the tarnished wristwatch out of the mess, much to Prussia and America’s disappointment.

“That didn’t take long,” Germany noted, pleasantly surprised.  “I suppose if everyone is ready, you should--”

“I know the drill, potato head.”

Germany sighed heavily and looked on with everyone else as Romano rather unceremoniously hurled the watch against the nearest wall, busting it.  One by one and in quick succession, their eyes glazed over and grew unfocused.  Germany watched the clarity leave Japan’s eyes last, leaving him alone amongst his absent friends.

He had never liked being in the room when a clock was broken.   Germany found it creepy, for one thing, to feel surrounded by zombies, and for another, the process took an uncomfortably long amount of time to complete.  To whittle away the minutes, Germany began to pace among the standing sleepers, watching their faces twitch in anger or fear or sorrow in reaction to whatever they were seeing.  Occasionally Germany would hear a whimper or a moan from one of them.  He tried hard to tune those out; though he found the whole display greatly disturbing, the noises were what troubled him the most.

Germany had hardly completed a full circuit of the room before a new noise ripped through the air and made the floor rumble.  He whirled to find the source of the terrible groaning and, to his horror, witnessed a grey mass of eyes and flesh writhing at the edge of the room.  The thing let out a sickening gurgle as it extended its barbed tentacles towards Romano and Japan, who stood unawares just feet away from it.

Germany swore and unfurled his whip as he sprinted to defend his helpless friends from the creeping reach of the monster.  “I won’t let you take them!” he roared, using his whip like a machete to beat the creature’s tentacles away.  A low groan emanated from the beast before it latched onto Germany’s wrist and the whip he held in his hand.  He cried out in pain and alarm as the tentacle cut into him like razor wire and began to pull him in towards the beast’s grotesque body.  A surge of panic and adrenaline allowed him to wrench his now mangled wrist free, but the creature still had a firm grasp on Germany’s whip and was pulling it steadily into itself.  This left Germany no choice but to release his hold on his weapon or else be likewise consumed by his enemy.  

Now defenseless, Germany searched frantically around for another weapon, but all that surrounded him were the blank stares of his endangered friends and the monster that was once again reaching for them.  He knew that he had to act quickly if he wanted them to live, so he did the first thing that came to mind and sprinted to Romano before the monster could reach him.  In one deft motion, he picked him up and dragged him as far away from the thing’s grasp as he dared before he turned back and went for Japan.

The monster, however, reached Japan first.  It already had a tentacle squeezed around Japan’s middle, drawing fresh scarlet out to stain the filthy white of Japan’s uniform beneath its grasp.  Germany growled in anger and tried to pry the tentacles off Japan with his bare hands, but it was as if he had gripped a knife’s edge, so he was forced to give up that pursuit.

Panic welled up in Germany’s chest when Japan still did not move.  “Wake up!” he begged Japan, or anyone who could hear him.  Nobody stirred, and the monster only squeezed Japan tighter.  Not only that, but it had begun to stretch even more writhing arms towards Germany and a few others in the room.  Germany’s breath was coming in ragged gasps in his desperate search for any way he could stop the attack when finally, his eyes landed on salvation.  He tore Japan’s katana from its scabbard and severed the tentacle that was snaked around Japan with one powerful stroke.  Having freed him, Germany dragged Japan away to rest by the others before he turned around to find that the creature had almost reached America.

For what seemed like forever, Germany fought alone against the groaning behemoth in this manner, rescuing one person only to find three more in danger, slicing away one tentacle only to see a swathe of others replace it.  So lost was he in the fervor of combat and the tangle of razor-sharp arms that he did not at first notice when the others began to awaken.  He was only aware that now, America was firing bullets into the thing’s eyes, and now Prussia was charging at it with his sword, and now Canada’s arrows had joined the fray, until eventually everyone had come to consciousness and was attacking the creature with all the strength they could muster.  Even Japan, injured and disarmed, had begun attacking the thing with a lamp stand.

Nobody was spared bloodshed before the beast let out a long, final hiss and succumbed to their combined onslaught.  The thing collapsed into a pile of dust and nothingness, leaving behind Germany’s whip and a thin, bloody mist.

Faintly, Germany became aware of the concerned chatter of his friends all around him, and that he could barely understand any of it.  Then there was dripping.  Slowly, his eyes were drawn to his wrist, from which blood was flowing freely, and probably had been for some time now.  That couldn’t be good, he thought, but he needed to retrieve his whip, now, didn’t he?

He didn’t make it more than a few steps before he crumpled to the ground and was lost to the world.

“West!” Prussia shouted as he and several others went scrambling to his aid.  Just as they converged on Germany’s unconscious form, a blinding light erupted from him.  Prussia recoiled and shielded his eyes from the light, and when it faded, he lowered his hands to find that Germany was still lying bloody on the ground, his breathing shallow.

“See?” came a whisper in Prussia’s ear as he pulled his brother into his lap.  “The battle never ends.”


	15. Connection

The air was cold, and for some reason, he felt like he had been crying.  Why was Spain holding him?  The sensation didn’t last long before it was swept away by faint voices echoing down the hallways.  Now Japan and Prussia were there, and they looked surprised.  Prussia, in fact, seemed drunk, but Italy supposed that wasn’t unusual.  And with them was--

Now France was hugging him, but for some reason he shrugged him off.  That didn’t feel right, but he didn’t have time to question it because now he was holding an old watch--oh, it would have been so pretty with a little polishing!  He wasn’t sure why he threw it so hard that it broke.  

And then he was just standing there when a horrible monster appeared!  He tried to run away, but he couldn’t move a muscle.  The monster had so many eyes, and even more tentacles, and it was reaching for him!  Why couldn’t he run?  Why couldn’t he scream?

He could have cried with relief when someone picked him up and whisked him away from the terrible thing.  What a firm chest, and such a strong grip!  It was all so familiar, so he looked up to see his rescuer’s face.

Italy woke up with a gasp.  What had he been dreaming about?  The frantic rush of a nightmare lingered in his chest. It probably didn’t matter too much, he decided.  He slid out of bed with a yawn and took a look around, trying to remember where he was.  It seemed like a nice place, he thought.  There were plenty of beds and plenty of chairs, which made Italy recall that he was here with plenty of his friends.  With that in mind, he put on a smile and his shoes and went out to look for them.  The bathrooms were empty, and so was the kitchen, so Italy decided to head down the stairs.  After all, this mansion was huge, and they could be anywhere!

He didn’t search long before he found someone.  In just the next room stood Holy Rome, breathing heavily with his sword drawn, braced against some danger Italy simply didn’t see.

“Holy Rome?” 

Light glinted off his sword as he whirled around to face Italy.  His face was lit up with the heat of battle, but it was extinguished the moment they met eyes.  “Italy!” he panted, putting his sword away.  “It’s good to see you up.  How did you sleep?”

“Um,” said Italy, very confused as to what Holy Rome had been doing.  “I slept well, I think, except for a few nightmares,” he said.  “What were you doing out here?”

“Nightmares?” Holy Rome asked, ignoring his question.  “What kind?”

“I was being chased by a monster or something, I think,” Italy answered him, hugging himself.  “It was scary, but I can’t really remember the details now.”  He frowned down at his shoes, lost in thought.  “It’s not morning yet, is it?”

Holy Rome huffed a laugh and shook his head.  “No, you weren’t out for that long.  The others went to explore somewhere else so you could sleep,” he lied.  “Do you want to go look for them?”

“I’d like that,” said Italy, beaming.  “Hey, do you think we could get everyone together for a game of football?” he asked, walking with Holy Rome into the next room.

A smile crossed Holy Rome’s face as he answered, “I don’t see why n--”

Italy blinked, and suddenly Holy Rome was standing on the opposite side of the room, putting his sword away.  Italy found this all very strange, considering he hadn’t seen Holy Rome move.  “What are you doing over there?”

Holy Rome wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, and he wore a tired expression when he answered, “I’m waiting for you.”

“Oh!” Italy exclaimed as he scurried to get back by his side.  “Sorry,” he chuckled nervously.  “I guess I must have zoned out or something.”

“I suppose so,” Holy Rome distractedly agreed.

Together, they continued forwards.  “Maybe you should have taken a nap, too,” Italy teased him.  “You look really tired!”

This drew an amused laugh from him.  “You think so?  Maybe I’m just getting old,” he joked.

“Hey, you can’t say that!” Italy exclaimed.  “That means I’m getting old, too!  I’ve been alive longer than you, so--” he stopped short, the words feeling wrong on his tongue.  “Wait, that isn’t right, is it?” he asked himself.  He tried to look for memories, but all he could seem to remember was their childhood.  Still, that told him one thing.  “You’re older than me.”

“What?” Once again, Holy Rome was not in the same place Italy had left him, and was, once again, struggling to catch his breath and gripping his sword tightly.  “Oh, right,” he panted.  “Yes, I am older than you,” he confirmed, wandering back over to where Italy stood.  “I wouldn’t worry about my appearance if I were you, though, Italy,” he said, unable to suppress an adoring smile.  “You’ll still look young and beautiful when you’re ancient.”

“If I live that long,” Italy replied lightly.  This tugged the pleasant smile right from Holy Rome’s lips, but Italy didn’t notice.  “It’s kind of scary to think about, but, who knows?  I could die before then.”

Sorrow flashed across Holy Rome’s face, but was gone in an instant, replaced by something akin to longing.  “You’re not wrong,” he agreed.  “But you shouldn’t.”

Italy laughed and asked, “What do you mean I shouldn’t?  I can’t help it if I die!”  He crossed his arms and added, “I mean, I’ll try to stay alive as long as I can, of course, but I’ll go on to paradise when it’s my time, just like everyone else.”

There was a heavy pause before Holy Rome responded.  “You shouldn’t die, because you still have people to represent, and friends who need you more than you realize,” Holy Rome said, looking him in the eyes, his face still full of yearning.  There was a weight to his words that Italy didn’t understand, so he only stared back, feeling lost.

Holy Rome took a deep breath and reached for Italy’s hand.  “Come on,” he said through a sad smile.  “They’re still waiting for you.”


	16. Nearly

A bath had been just what China needed. Even if he had to keep his new stitches dry, the rest of his body sang the praises of the marvel that was hot running water.  While he was certainly used to it by now, the invention still felt new to him, like an expensive gift he still didn’t feel quite belonged to him.  How many baths would he need to take to account for the buckets and buckets of water he had drawn from wells all over his land before the advent of indoor plumbing?  Even still, could his toilet at home ever compensate for the endless hours he had spent squatting over far less comfortable arrangements?  China doubted it.

He smiled.

For a fraction of a moment, he was content, his troubles nearly forgotten.  

Nearly.  What a sad word that was.  If only the gentle lapping of water against his skin could wash away the stubborn worry in his heart, then, ah yes, then, he could relax!

But, for now, he had begun to consider his situation, an action which, China had found, had never been conducive to relaxation of any degree.

His thoughts turned to Japan.  Surely he hadn’t even made it to the annex yet, but there crept into China’s mind the idea that he wouldn’t make it back.  Italy’s life had been cut short in an instant, so it was foolish to think that any of them were exceptions to that possibility.  Germany and Prussia were strong, just as they were strong-headed, but what if, by some cursed twist of fate, those monsters destroyed both of them, and Japan?  Russia and England and himself could be holed up in the safe room for days, months, years, never knowing for sure what had become of them.  Of course, there were France, America, and Canada, too.  The odds of all six of them getting killed at once were incredibly slim.

Then again, the odds of all of them getting trapped in this mansion with a horde of supernatural entities were surely slimmer, and that had come to pass already. 

The water sloshed around China as he rose from the tub and yanked out the plug.  There was nothing more he could do from inside that tub except turn himself into a prune, he decided, fiercely ignoring the terrible possibilities that had just run through his mind.  The process of towelling himself off was made difficult by his aching arm, but it made for a welcome distraction from the other hurts.  

He paid the end of his ponytail a little extra attention, as it was still dripping from where it had dipped rather sneakily into the water behind China’s back.  When he had dried himself to a satisfactory level, he looked at the clothes he had shed in a hasty pile on the floor.  They were filthy.  He frowned at them, but seeing as they had become no cleaner by means of his disapproval, he sighed and put them back on anyway. 

Something warm and wet brushed against his arm as he poked it through a sleeve.  China let out an undignified squeak in the moment before he remembered what it was.  He set the little lump on a nearby shelf and finished dressing himself.  No matter how desperate England would be to regain any of his magic, China decided he would rather be fully clothed when it happened.

China found England and Russia sharing sparse conversation over a little tea. 

“Lithuania called,” Russia informed him as he approached.  “Nobody else has died yet, as far as he knows, although Denmark and Switzerland were reportedly injured pretty badly.  They’re still searching for a way to get us out of here.”

“I’m beginning to hope they just set fire to this god-forsaken place and end all this,” England glumly proposed.  “Or maybe bring in a tank.  Wonder if they’ve tried a tank…”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I have something for you?” China asked, joining them at the table.

“Maybe,” England replied, face lighting up with curiosity.  “What is it?”

“Hold out your hand,” China instructed.  “No peeking.”

England scowled.  “Very funny, China.”  Russia couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter.

“You’ll forgive me in a second,” China replied as he unceremoniously plopped the little blob of magic into England’s hand.

“My magic!” England gasped.  With a spark of light, he absorbed it.  

Russia and China watched expectantly as he blinked a few times.  “Well?” Russia prompted him, leaning forward.

“I’m… I’m still pretty blind,” England admitted, and that made China feel more disappointed than he would have expected to feel.  “But now I can see light, and if I really focus, I can make out you two, sort of.  I think.”  He couldn’t stop swiveling his head around just to see if he could figure out more of his surroundings.

“That’s something,” said China, slumping a bit in his seat.

“At least it is no longer dark, right?” Russia said cheerfully.

“Yeah,” England agreed, his spirits heightened by the unexpected gift.  “But now that I know how little improvement comes from one lump of magic, well…”  He reached for his teacup, bumping it with the back of his fingers once before he found the handle.  “Let’s just say that I’m really hoping I’ll be able to regenerate my magic once we get out of here.”

“That is, if we can survive these creatures long enough to get out of here,” China sighed.  “Seriously, I feel like we’ve been in here for years!  I wonder what has them so cranky.”

“Some would ask the same about you,” said Russia.

“I mean it!” China shot back.  “Who knows how many times each of us has been killed in this mansion over all the timelines?  You can’t not be angry and do that to people!”

The corner of England’s mouth twitched.  “I disagree.”

“And why’s that?”

“Well,” he started, “I think it’s safe to say they’re trapped here, like us.  They could be bored.”

Russia snorted and said, “I don’t think boredom is a very good reason to kill people, England.”

“I never said it was!” England scoffed.  “I’m just saying, think about it this way.  Outside of this mansion, we’re more or less immortal.  That being said, time doesn’t really seem to affect these creatures.  I could be wrong, but maybe they’re almost immortal, too.  Imagine being stuck here for all that time,” he said with a shudder.  “Hell, I’ve only been in here this long, and I wouldn’t mind if the place suddenly burned to the ground.”

“So what are they, bored or suicidal?” China scoffed.

“Why not both?” Russia suggested.

China rolled his eyes. “If it were me stuck in this dusty, moldy mansion for all eternity, I wouldn’t lie down and wait to die.”

“What would you do, then?” England asked, crossing his arms.  “Please, enlighten us.”

“I would be pissed!” China declared.  “Being stuck here with a bunch of ugly things, all of them just like me, I would hate anyone who dared enjoy a life outside this place!”

“Misery loves company,” Russia mused.  “So, China, you think when we walked in here, all of the creatures here got so angry that they trapped us here to suffer with them?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” England argued.  “If they were so desperate to keep us trapped here, then why would there be a way out?  Couldn’t they just put the key somewhere we could never reach it?”

England heard no response for several long seconds until Russia said, “Have you ever heard of a Skinner box?”

“What’s that?”

“Skinner was the American knock-off of the great Russian behaviorist, Pavlov,” Russia informed them.  “He invented a little box for rats and other tiny animals.  In this box, there is a lever.  Sometimes--not every time, mind you--when the rat presses the lever, it gets a food pellet,” he explained.  “If the rat ignores the lever for too long, it gets an electric shock.  It sounds cruel, no?  But, in this way, you can train the rat to keep pressing the lever, even until the point that it dies of exhaustion.”

“Does that make us rats, then?” England asked, rather indignant at the suggestion.

“No,” Russia said.  “We’re the food pellets.  I suppose for the sake of this analogy, the key to the door is a particularly tasty food pellet, too.  The rat, you see, was Italy.”

“...Oh.”

After giving it some thought, China finally broke the solemn silence that had been created and said, “That’s a terrible analogy.”

“Is it?”  Russia looked up in interest and said, “Why do you say that, China?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he replied.  “You should know better than anyone that in this box, pressing levers gets you killed.”

A laugh bubbled out from Russia’s belly faster than he could stop it, and soon he had collapsed into a fit of high-pitched giggles.

“China,” England stated, “Is Russia… is he actually laughing?”

“It’s not--” China was interrupted by the beginnings of his own laugh-- “It’s not me making those noises.  I’m not--” a snort-- “not sure I’m even capable of those noises,” China giggled out.  “It wasn’t even that funny, Russia!”

“Did you just snort?” England demanded.  “Oh my god, you just snorted, and I can’t even bloody see it!”

This just made Russia laugh to the point of tears.

“Since when--hah!--Since when can you s-see snorting, anyway?” China panted out.  By now, Russia was slapping the table, wheezing for air, and even England had been caught up in the contagion.  The stress the three of them had built up during their stay in the mansion came pouring out in their laughter that soon, they were laughing for no other reason than that they were laughing in the first place.

Eventually, the laughter ebbed, and the three of them became quiet once more, save for the occasional chuckle.

Russia exhaled, long and satisfied.  “You still have not heard Russia laugh, England,” he said.  “Russia never laughs like that.  That was Ivan.”

“Well then, maybe Ivan should come up with better analogies,” came England’s decided retort.  “Ones that don’t imply that we’re going to get eaten by Italy.”

Almost as though England had spoken a magic word, melancholy fell on the three of them once more.  Now pointedly aware of the fourth body in the room, and the rest of their friends who had yet to return--and very possibly wouldn’t--they waited.


	17. Recollections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this chapter's a bit of a doozy, so maybe grab a warm beverage before you start.

Being the last one through the door, Japan shut it quietly behind himself as he listened to the chaos in the shelter above.

“We need bandages!” Prussia called out.

“He’s not dead, is he?” Russia asked.

“Who’s not dead?” came England’s voice of concern.

This was immediately followed by a, “How the hell did you two get here?” from China.

“Bandages, dammit!” Prussia insisted, and he was met right away by the rest of their medical supplies.

Soon thereafter, Canada asked, “Wait, why isn’t he bleeding anymore?”

“Shit, that can’t be good,” Prussia fretted, winding a bandage around Germany’s mangled wrist.  “He’s still breathing, but--”

“Who?” England shouted, frustrated beyond belief at his sightlessness.

“Why don’t you just come see for yourself?” Spain called back to him.

“Spain?!” 

“Oh, right, you’re blind,” Spain remembered, scratching his head.  “They told us about that, but I kind of forgot.  Sorry.  Anyway, there was a--”

“It’s Germany,” Romano sighed, knowing that Spain likely wouldn’t remember England’s original question any time soon.

This seemed to placate England just long enough for France to come to his side and quietly tell him that yes, he was fine, and no, Canada and America weren’t hurt, either.

“Japan, you’re covered in blood!” China exclaimed as Japan finally tugged himself up the stairs.

It was not until China appeared beside him that Japan fully realized that he had sustained so many wounds, and now that the adrenaline was falling away, it was being replaced by exhaustion and pain.  “I suppose I am,” Japan finally conceded.

The others, too, were now beginning to feel their injuries; gashes and cuts from the beast’s razor arms, bruises where they had hit the ground in evasion or in failing to evade injury.  By unspoken agreement, nobody touched the medical supplies until Prussia had completely taken care of Germany’s injuries.  Only once Germany was safely tucked into bed did China take up the role of doctor for the rest of them, starting with Japan, who appeared to have sustained the next worst injuries.

“Thank you,” Japan murmured to China, even as as they worked together to pull Japan’s ragged uniform off his bloodied torso.

China did not respond, his eyes far too focussed on the search for serious wounds, except to say, “You won’t need stitches, but these will definitely scar.”

Japan only nodded, too tired to do much else except let China begin to bandage the heavy wounds around his ribs.

As soon as Japan had been taken care of, China moved to Prussia, who hadn’t stopped watching Germany’s breathing long enough to even assess his own state of health.  It took him some convincing, but by China’s insistence and a little nudging from Japan, Prussia finally allowed himself a brief checkup.

Just a few beds away, Romano stood like a statue over Italy’s covered form.  He hadn’t even pulled the sheets away before the tears began to flow freely and his body began to quake.  With trembling breath and shaking hands, he slowly peeled the sheets away to reveal the lifeless face of his little brother.

He would have fallen to his knees had Spain not been there to catch him.  Nothing, however, could stop the sound of his agony from piercing every heart in the shelter.

Nobody breathed a word for the longest time.

Eventually, however, the heavy fog of grief dissipated, leaving only wet eyes and runny noses, hoarse whispers and light touches.  Though their wounds had been covered, they had not yet begun to heal.  It wasn’t long before many of the other relatively unscathed members of their party retreated to the showers to clean themselves of sweat and blood and the deep-seated weariness in their bones.

One by one, people trickled back to the table.  Several of them had attempted to clean their clothes, and so wore nothing but their underwear and bandages as they waited for the rest to gather.  Others of them sat with wet hair clinging to their foreheads, and their filthy clothes clinging to their skin.  France, in particular, found his way to the table wearing nothing but a couple of towels around his waist and hair, leaving his battle-marked skin on proud display.

Prussia was the last to take his seat, and only did so under the condition that Germany’s bed be pushed out far enough into the common area that he could keep an eye on him as they caught up with each other.  “Okay,” he said, his voice tired but firm.  “We have a lot of ground to cover, so I think it would be best if each group elected a spokesman to explain what happened to everybody.  Questions and comments will be saved for the end of each group’s turn,” he instructed.  In that moment, Prussia’s influence on Germany became quite apparent.  “Spain and Romano, we’ll start with you.”

Romano stayed quiet, so Spain cleared his throat.  “Well,” he began, “the weapons we went to test are all in fine working order.  We had plenty of opportunity to test them out.”  He swallowed and tried not to look at Prussia.  “At first, we tried to convince the England of that timeline to send us back after the portal disappeared, but he refused.  Some… some things happened, and he finally gave up on saving that timeline.”  He took a shaky breath before he continued.  “England used the rest of his magic to send us back.”

“The rest?” England asked, a knot forming in his stomach.

“Yeah,” said Spain, eyes fixed on a spot on the table.  “There’s a whole pile of magic in the annex, now.”

“How much?!” England exclaimed.  “I need you to take me to it right away!  It might be enough to--”

“England,” Prussia barked, stunning England into silence.  “We can come up with a plan of action after everybody has spoken.  Spain, was that everything?”  Spain nodded, unused to seeing Prussia so serious, and Romano had nothing to add.  “Then let’s move on.  China, Russia, England; anything?”

Russia glanced at China and England before speaking.  “Lithuania called and informed us that Switzerland and Denmark were injured.  Other than that, nothing has happened here.”

“And have you heard from yourself?” Prussia asked him.

“I said nothing else happened.”

They locked eyes for a long moment before Prussia said, “Very well.  France, Canada, America; what happened to you?”

“We broke all the clocks Russia told us about,” America said, resting his chin on his hand.  “The… visions, or whatever, were kind of weird this time, though.”

This drew several interested gazes.  “Weird how?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” said America, absently scratching his cheek.

“It felt like there were more of them this time, at least to me,” Canada piped up.  “And on top of that, the visions were things I don’t think any of us would have been able to observe.”

“Like what?” Russia prompted him, bushy brows furrowed.

“Well, I…”  Canada shrank into his seat and stared into the table.  “I saw Italy, and he was here in the shelter, all by himself.  Like, really, by himself.”  Canada didn’t have to look up to know that Romano was fighting back grief at his words.  “Nobody else was… alive, in that vision, so we couldn’t have...”  he trailed, fidgeting with his hands.

France coughed lightly to break the uncomfortable silence that had followed Canada’s statement and said, “I saw us outside.”  There was a moment of brief clamor before he spoke again.  “Please, everyone, don’t get so excited.  Please do not hope for this vision to come true,” he insisted, which quieted the group somewhat.  “When I had that vision, I noticed the blood before the sunlight.  We were outside, but the cost was far, far too great a price to pay for freedom,” he solemnly told them.

“There isn’t a price too great for freedom,” America snapped.  “Are you saying we shouldn’t even try to escape, just because some of us might not make it?”

“Is the blood of dozens worth life outside these walls?” came France’s fierce reply.  “Had you seen the things I did, you might start to wonder, too!”

“Enough of this!” The table shook with the force of Prussia’s fists.  “Now is not the time!  We don’t even know how we’re getting outside yet, so unless one of you is hiding a key to that damned door somewhere in your clothes, we will discuss what happens beyond it later!”  To this, America only grumbled and averted his gaze, while France’s eyes focused on something far, far away.  “If that is all,” Prussia continued, lowering his voice to a reasonable volume,  “I suppose now is as good a time as any to share my group’s experience.”  He paused and took a deep breath.  “We followed the trail of blood China and Russia left behind to the annex, and we killed the thing down there without much of a problem.  We then pulled that lever in the opposite direction, and one of the room’s walls fell down, revealing a tall grandfather clock.”  Here he halted and bit his lip, looking to Japan as if for support.  “This is where things got weirder.”

“Ah, yes,” Japan sighed, sagging against the table.  “When at first I saw the clock, I saw that it was broken, but then Prussia and Germany pointed out to me that it wasn’t broken at all,” he confessed.  He tried hard to ignore the confused and worried glances from the others.  Prussia, too, took note of these looks and was thankful that the voices in his head were still a secret.  Japan continued.  “Prussia wanted to break it, but Germany said it felt… I believe the word he used was important.  We thought about it for a while, and we remembered that Italy had told us that he used the hands of a large clock to turn back time.”

“He did say that, didn’t he?” France muttered.  “Sorry, please do continue.  What did you do, then?”

“We tried it ourselves,” Prussia explained, his voice oddly subdued.

“Wait a minute,” China interjected.  “You tried to reset time, to make us go through this hell all over again, without even asking us?  Without even considering that we might still find a way out?”

“You wouldn’t have known about it if we had succeeded, and we wouldn’t be here if we had,” Prussia retorted.  “Or would you rather have had us risk everyone dying without ever having another chance to escape?”

“It was a gamble!” China responded.  “It was a gamble, and I would prefer that you don’t gamble with my life!”

Before China could argue further, Romano’s cool voice silenced him.  “Don’t try to say you wouldn’t have done the same thing if it were Japan lying dead in the corner instead.”

China glared at him a second before he firmly stated, “I wouldn’t have.”

“Haven’t we strayed far enough from the purpose of this conversation?” Japan dryly noted, refusing to allow the pang of hurt he felt to make it into his voice.

“Thank you, Japan,” said Prussia, carefully sliding his eyes along the line of tension between China and Romano.  “As we were saying, we tried the clock.  It didn’t work, so we left, and that’s when we ran into Spain and Romano.  We met up with France’s group not too long after that, and so we decided that we should all go together to break the last clock they had been told about.  We found it, broke it, and then…”

There was a weary sigh from Germany’s bed, then, followed by, “I need to talk now, don’t I?”

“West!” Prussia exclaimed, leaping to his feet and racing to his brother’s side.  “You’re awake!  How do you feel?  Do you need anything?”

Germany smiled wryly and said, “I don’t believe those questions are on topic.”

“They really are brothers,” England sighed to himself as Prussia glowered.

“Germany,” said Japan, keeping himself seated at the table.  “I am glad to see that you are awake, though I will admit that I am curious to know what happened after the clock was broken.”

The bed creaked as Germany shifted to a sitting position.  “Brother, you didn’t have to move the bed,” he muttered, looking around a little confusedly at his bed’s new location.  He shook his head lightly and cleared his throat.  “After Romano broke the clock, you all fell into your trances, as usual.  I heard a horrible noise, and when I turned around, one of those disgusting, shapeless monsters was there in the room with us.”

“It just… appeared?” Canada asked, his eyes wide.  “Er, I guess that makes more sense than it squeezing through the door, or something,” he said a little sheepishly.

Germany nodded.  “As far as I can tell, yes, though it may very well have dropped from the ceiling, or crawled out of Prussia’s nose.”

“Ew,” said Prussia.

“Like I said, my back was turned when it appeared.”  Germany adjusted himself on the mattress again and sniffed.  “Then the monster started reaching for whoever was closest to it.  I tried to fight it off before it could get to any of you, but I failed, and for that, I am sorry.  Especially to you, Japan,” he said, guilt darkening his already stern features.  “If it had been faster, I am afraid--”

“You saved my life,” Japan interrupted him.  “And I am not the only one who owes you thanks.  It is no small testament to your strength that you were able to safeguard all of us on your own until we awoke.”

“I did my duty,” Germany replied, though he couldn’t meet Japan’s eye.  “I don’t remember much of anything from the time after you all started to come around.”

“That might be because you were trying your damnedest to paint the whole room red,” said America.  “I don’t know if you noticed, but that thing got your wrist pretty good.”

Germany only grimaced in agreement before Canada said, “Oh!  I just remembered!  After you went down, Germany, there was this big flash of light.”

“Oh,” Romano muttered, frowning deeply in concentration.  “We saw that before.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” said Spain, nodding.  “England, I don’t know how, but I think your magic came out of Germany.”

England’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “Really?  How the hell did--oh!”  His eyes widened in realization.  “Germany, you still had my magic shield on you!  America used his, Italy… but you still had yours.  Come to think of it, I don’t feel it on you anymore, either.  That must have been it.”

“But England,” said France, “Germany was not being attacked when the flash happened.”

“He wouldn’t have needed to be to activate it,” England explained with a shake of his head.  “The spells that were put on them were shields against anything that would have caused them mortal harm.  An attack from a monster, for example, or a heart attack, even, or--”

“Or blood loss,” said Spain, a bitter smile on his face.

England blinked a time or two and nodded.  “Yeah, that is probably what activated it this time, from what I’ve heard.”

A sick feeling writhed around in Prussia’s gut.  “Are you saying West almost…”

“What did you all see when the clock was broken?” said Germany, refusing to dwell on his near-demise.  “Anything noteworthy?”

“It is as Canada said,” Japan answered him.  “Even my visions, which are usually of the future, appeared to be impossible.”  He swallowed and clenched his hands into fists.  “I can only hope they were nothing but shattered fragments of memories, otherwise… I am at a loss for how to save some of you,” he admitted with a shiver.

China frowned at him.  “Surely we can all come together and think of a solution to--”

“You don’t understand,” Japan insisted, his voice growing more desperate.  “Sometimes the only solution was… involving Italy.”

The group was quiet until Prussia huffed a laugh. “Well,” he said in answer to the glances and glares, “We might end up involving Italy after all.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Romano demanded, crossing his arms. 

Prussia readily met his gaze.  “The big clock in the annex--we couldn’t turn back time with it.  Italy was the only one who could do that.”

France’s face slowly crumpled in incredulous horror.  “Are you suggesting--no.  No!  I won’t allow it.”

“It would only require a trip downstairs,” Japan told him hesitantly.

“Not you too, Japan!” France countered, furious.  “He was closer to you than almost any one of us, and this is how you wish to treat him in his death?” he shouted.  “He has done enough for us.  Let him rest.”

“We aren’t suggesting we roll his body down the stairs, France!” said Germany, now sitting with his legs hanging off the bed.  “We simply want to carry him--”

“To turn back time?” China spat.  “Right, let’s just set our progress back to nothing again.”  He scowled at Japan and said, “I thought you had better respect for the dead, but I guess I failed to teach you even that.”

Japan returned his glare with equal fire.  “I believe I have enough respect for Italy’s wishes to try whatever it takes to turn back time so that all of us could escape,” he stated.  “Together.  As he would have wanted.”

“Japan is right,” said Romano, eyes dull.  “My stupid little brother would keep trying from beyond the grave if he could.  I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we toted him around for a little longer.”

“That may be so,” said America.  “But I’m gonna agree with China here.  Yeah, I do think it’s a little weird to drag him down there, but that’s not my issue,” he said, frowning.  “All we have to do is find the key, and then we’re free.”

“But we don’t know where it is!” Canada argued.  “And it wasn’t where Italy said it usually is.  It might not even be here, for all we know, and besides,” he said, adjusting his glasses.  “If we escape now, it’ll be without Italy.  I don’t think that’s right.”

Russia nodded and said, “We might not even live long enough to find the key at all.”

“We have to at least try!” said America.

“Wait,” said Spain.  “We aren’t the only people in this situation.  There are others outside, risking their lives looking for a way out for us as we speak,” he reminded them.  “If anyone out there dies before we set back the clock or escape, who knows if a reset will bring them back?”

“They should come back,” Germany mused, scratching his head.  “Italy did tell us he wound up at the world meeting again every time he reset time, so that suggests that the world outside the mansion resets, too.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Romano with a wave of his hand.  “Veneziano died over and over again!  I felt it every time, which means the world outside keeps turning, regardless of what happens in this mansion.”

The words hit everyone deeply, and Germany’s shoulders slumped.  “So unless we can pull out some concrete proof for either of those theories, we can’t be certain of either.”

“So people outside could die permanently if we keep trying to find the key for much longer,” Spain confirmed.  “We don’t know, for sure, but if we’re talking about gambling with people’s lives…” he trailed with a look at China, who huffed.

“Don’t twist my words,” he replied, though his mouth was curled in defeat.  “Do what you want.  It probably won’t work anyway.”

“I refuse to be a part of this,” France protested, crossing his arms.  “Such disrespect...”

“Then take me to get my magic from the annex,” said England.  “If there’s really as much magic down there as those two said, I’ll be able to reset time myself if Italy can’t do it.”

“I’ll go with you two,” said China, embittered.  

“Me too,” said America.  “I want to do something that’s actually useful.”

Germany ignored America’s comment and said, “Is everyone else coming with us, then?”

“I’ll go with England and the others instead,” said Romano after a beat of silence.  ‘I support you in this, I just… can’t.”

Spain shifted uncomfortably and then said, “I’ll with you, Romano, in case you guys run into trouble down there.”

“Whatever,” Romano sighed. 

“I would go with you all to the clock,” said Russia, leaning back in his seat, “But as you can see, my leg isn’t as useful as it once was.”

“Right,” said Canada with a sympathetic wince.  “Um, I can stay with you here, and we can keep an eye on the phone, if you want.”

A smile warmed Russia’s face, and he replied, “I would not object to the company.”

Prussia let out a half-hearted laugh.  “Well, would you look at that,” he said, glancing between Japan and Germany.  “Looks like it’s us against the world again.”

Japan smiled, bittersweet, and replied, “Yes, and it appears Italy has once again left us before everything has been said and done.”

“Just like old times,” said Germany, cracking a grin.

America rolled his eyes at them and moved to stand.  “Come on, England, let’s get your magic back.”

“Agreed,” said France as he got to his feet as well.

With that, the remaining chairs squeaked backwards, and the meeting dispersed.  


	18. Life

“Everyone sure is taking a while to find,” Italy lamented as they entered a room in which a shining porcelain piano took center stage.

“Maybe they’re playing hide and seek,” Holy Rome mused absently, strolling alongside him.

“You think so?” Italy laughed.  “I bet it was Prussia’s idea.  Hey, you should help me look!” he suggested, tugging at Holy Rome’s hand excitedly.

“What if I wanted to hide instead?” he teased.

Italy faked a pout, though there was mirth in his eyes. “Then I would keep looking all over until I found you again,” he said as a matter of fact.

“I don’t doubt it,” Holy Rome replied, but he stopped short as he spotted an unwelcome guest at the door.  Grey and menacing, the monster trudged into the room with its claws bared and its soulless gaze penetrating all who dared cross its path--

Except Holy Rome, who just rolled his eyes.  “Not again,” he groaned, drawing his sword for the umpteenth time.

As Holy Rome knew he would, Italy let out a yelp of fear and scurried to cower behind the piano.  “What-What is that… that thing?” he stuttered out, watching the creature with wide eyes.

“It’s--” Holy Rome slashed at the monster’s face, but missed by a hair’s breadth.  “It’s something you’ll forget.  Something you’ve already forgotten,” he calmly told Italy, who only looked on in confusion and subdued terror. 

“I don’t understand--”

“You won’t,” Holy Rome assured him, dodging a strike at his head as the monster screeched.  Italy shrank back a little further.  “I lost count of how many times I’ve tried to explain, but you--argh!”  The sound of ripping fabric accompanied Holy Rome’s cry of pain.  He instinctively clutched at his shoulder for only a second before he retaliated, but the moment of hesitation gave the monster an edge.  “Don’t worry, Italy!” he called out through clenched teeth.  “I won’t let it get to you!”

Italy was gripping the leg of the piano so tightly it hurt, paralyzed by his fear to do anything but watch as Holy Rome regained his edge.

“Just relax, Italy,” Holy Rome instructed him, finally landing a blow.  “You were right, I--” he jumped backwards to dodge-- “I am a little tired.  After all, this makes at least…” he stabbed through the monster’s claw, forcing out of it a shriek of rage.  “I think this one makes at least a dozen,” he noted, ducking out of the way of another strike.  Italy remained silent, uncomprehending.  “Not that you would remember, anyway,” said Holy Rome, resigned, even as he drove a final blow through the creature’s head.  He panted as he yanked his sword out, and the monster fell to dust.

In the span of a heartbeat, the last trace of the beast vanished, and Holy Rome was completely healed of his injuries, his torn skin and clothes mended as though they had never been shredded to begin with.

“I guess nobody’s hiding under the piano!” Italy called out with oblivious cheer.

Holy Rome sheathed his sword and knelt down to peek at Italy from the opposite side of the piano, still struggling for breath.  “No,” he panted out through a grin. “I don’t suppose they would.  It’s a little obvious, don’t you think?”  

It was easier this way, he thought.  A twinge of bitterness knotted in his chest.  He had tried over and over to speak to Italy’s heart, but his countless efforts-- all of them fruitless-- had proven to him that he would have to find some other way of reaching it than through words that Italy refused to hear.  He would find some other way.  Everyone’s lives hinged on it.

Without warning, Italy launched himself at Holy Rome, nearly bowling him over with a fumbling hug.  

“What’s that for?” Holy Rome asked, a little amused as he held onto Italy both for the sake of returning his affection and, primarily, for balance.

“I dunno,” Italy said with a shrug. “You just… kind of looked like you needed a hug.”

Holy Rome hoisted the two of them to their feet with a grunt, though he didn’t let Italy go.  To the contrary, he pulled him closer.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “I probably did.”

“Hey, Holy Rome,” said Italy, hiding his face in Holy Rome’s neck.

“What is it, Italy?”

He sniffled and said, “It’s strange.  I’m here with you, and all my friends are here--somewhere, anyway,” he added with a weak laugh.  “I should be happy, but I feel so… so sad inside.”  He squeezed Holy Rome a little tighter.  “I still can’t shake the feeling like something isn’t right, here, either,” he confessed.  “It’s almost like... “ he bit his lip.  “I feel like I should be somewhere else, but I don’t know where that is at all.”  He pulled away from Holy Rome, then, and turned to the piano, running his hand along its smooth edges.  “Maybe I should just go home.”

It tore Holy Rome up inside to see Italy so dejected, but he knew Italy couldn’t go home.  Not yet, at least.  “Why don’t we look somewhere else for--Italy?” Italy swayed on his feet, and Holy Rome was just in time to catch him before he collapsed to the floor.  “Are you alright, Italy?  Oh--” Holy Rome let out a breath the moment he heard Italy begin to snore softly in his arms.  “Well, that’s one way to solve that dilemma, Mr. Italy’s heart,” he laughed, shaking his head.  

Even as the warmth fell away from the mansion, Holy Rome decided it best to carry Italy back to the shelter to sleep.  It was better than the floor, after all, and safer if those the creatures came back.

“Are you tired of waiting?”

Holy Rome clenched his teeth at the chilling voice.  “I would tell you to go to hell, but considering the circumstances--”

“Can he free us?”

The question made Holy Rome stop in his tracks.  “What?”

“He doesn’t remember,” one voice whispered.  “Us, or them--”

Another replied, “We are not like the others, or the others, but he has forgotten us all the same.”

Holy Rome scoffed at that.  “If you want to prove you’re so different, quit attacking me.  It’s getting repetitive.”

“When we lose--”

“--We win freedom.”

“Congratulations,” another voice cackled.  “Freedom is nothing.”

Holy Rome hurried down the corridor, his eyes focussed forwards.  Could these voices agree on anything?  “What do you want?” he demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Everything.”

“I should have known better,” Holy Rome scowled.  “Well, whatever it is, leave Italy--”

“Peace,” a third voice murmured.  “Can he free us?”

Well, this was certainly odd.  “If he… if he remembers,” Holy Rome glanced down to the sleeping figure in his arms.  “If Italy succeeds, he will obliterate the mansion and everything in it.”

A chorus of voices murmured, “Nothing, nothing, nothing,” though it was almost drowned out by a tidal wave of furious screeches that pierced through Holy Rome’s skull.  Through all of this, Italy stirred not an inch.

“We will be remembered!” several voices hissed in unison.

Still others groaned, “The forgotten never fade, are only let go.”

“Can he free us?”

The clamor had become so great by this point that Holy Rome was sprinting for the shelter, not daring to turn his head to discover if they had come to attack him or not.  The voices roared on, though in their great demand to be heard, their words had become unintelligible.  

Italy, however, heard nothing.

No, Italy was following England into the annex.  Why was England holding onto France so tightly?  Maybe he was scared.  He blinked, and there on the floor was a gelatinous, ruby-tinted mass--but not for long before it vanished in a flash of light, and now England was in its place, sobbing as France and America crouched by his sides.  Italy blinked again, and Spain was rushing forward with his axe towards Japan and Prussia, who were braced against a horde of terrible monsters, and behind them--

Who was that, lying on the floor?  Suddenly, Italy was rushing towards whoever that was, firing his brother’s gun into a monster that loomed above the person on the floor with its claws poised to strike.  Tears blurred his vision for a moment, and when they cleared, he found himself shouting furiously at a man he felt he should know.  Italy couldn’t help but think he looked an awful lot like Holy Rome.  But then he looked to the man on the floor, and his blood ran cold.  He knew that man.

It was Italy himself.  He numbly watched as the familiar man hoisted his own limp body into his arms, and finally, finally, he remembered.

“Germany!”  Italy shot awake with a gasp.

“So you’ve remembered?”

Italy sat fully upright and stared at Holy Rome, who had seated himself on the bed next to Italy’s.  “H-Holy Rome, I…” he finally breathed.  “I’m dead, aren’t I?  How else could I forget…”

“It’s true, Italy,” Holy Rome said with a sad smile.  “I’m glad you finally remembered, though.”

“What about the others?” Italy begged.  “If they’re here--don’t tell me they’re dead, Holy Rome, please--”

“No,” Holy Rome was quick to assure him.  “The ones here are nothing but dreams that your heart wished up.  Unlike you and me, they were just illusions.”

“So they’re alive,” Italy breathed, fidgeting with his sheets.  “I’m dead, and they’re still in this mansion, back on Earth!  I failed, and the monsters are going to go after them now, aren’t they?  And, and, they’ll all die too, all over again!  And nobody will be able to turn back the clock, and it’s my fault.  I shouldn’t have gone into that room by myself, I shouldn’t have--”  
“Italy,” Holy Rome stopped him.  “Now that you remember, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

Italy blinked several times.  “What?”

“This place hasn’t changed,” said Holy Rome.  “Everything will be just as your heart wills it.”

Italy shook his head.  “Are you saying that I can… that I can just wish myself alive?” came Italy’s incredulous reply.  

“Had you died outside the mansion, your body would have healed itself, wouldn’t it?” Holy Rome began.  “But most importantly, the nation of people you represent is still very much alive, Italy.”

Italy jumped up out of the bed.  “Well--Well, then, I’ll wish myself alive!” he declared, clasping Holy Rome’s hands in his own.  “I’ll wish us both alive!  You can come with me!  We’ll--”

Holy Rome shook his head.  “I don’t have people to represent, like you do, Italy.  Even if the wishes of your heart rule over this realm, they hold little sway over the land of the living.”

Italy remained silent.

“You shouldn’t even be here with me.  The only reason you’re still here is because your heart would rather you remain here than return to the mansion,” Holy Rome continued.  Italy wouldn’t meet his gaze; they both knew why that was.  “Italy,” he implored.  “You have to leave me here.  You have to let me go.”

“I…” Italy trembled, grasping Holy Rome’s hands tighter as though he feared he would disappear if he so much as loosened his grip.  “I know that.  I don’t really want to be dead, though.”

“You don’t want to be alive, either,” Holy Rome pointed out, gently rubbing his thumbs along Italy’s wrists.  “There’s a difference, you know.”

“That’s true,” Italy agreed.  A smile appeared on his face as he said, “But you were wrong about one thing.”

“Oh?”

“Maybe they don’t work quite like they do here, but my wishes aren’t powerless in the living world, either,” he said, his smile growing brighter by the second.  “Holy Rome, before I leave here, I have one more wish to make.”

Ah, so this was it, then.  Still, it was as it should be, and that brought Holy Rome the peace he needed.  Holy Rome looked into Italy’s vibrant eyes, and knew with the greatest certainty that life suited him best.  

A heartbeat later, Italy cupped his cheek and leaned in for one last kiss before darkness engulfed them both.


	19. Receiving

“I can’t believe them,” France huffed.  “I don’t know why they think using Italy’s body like that will actually work.”

England clung to France’s arm in his blindness as their train plodded down to the annex once more.  “It won’t matter, once I get my magic,” he said, to which China and America rolled their eyes.

“We’re not going to turn back time!” America insisted.  “Not unless we’re damned sure we’ve searched every inch of this mansion for that key.”

England scowled.  “Well, for backup, at least,” he huffed, determined to finally be useful again.

“Er, the magic was way in the back of the annex.”  Spain found all the tension exhausting to the point that it was giving him a headache.  “You can’t miss it.”  Everyone grunted in reply, except for Romano, whose eyes were unfocused.  He startled when Spain nudged him in the ribs.  “Hey, what is it?”

“Nothing,” Romano huffed.  “I just wish I hadn’t been there to break that last clock, is all.”

France shot a sympathetic glance over his shoulder at him.  “Did you see something you wish you hadn’t?”

“Those visions can be brutal,” said America, frowning.

Romano crossed his arms and let the sound of their footfall drown out his silence.  Much to everyone’s surprise, he spoke again.  “I saw Veneziano, and… it was so strange.  He was with Holy Rome.”  He laughed weakly and added, “I never thought I’d see that jerk again, let alone all grown up, with my baby brother.  Of all people...”

“Who?” America asked.  Upon seeing the sadness and confusion streaking across France, England, and Spain’s faces, he persisted.  “Hey, who’s Holy Rome?”

Before anyone could reply, China wryly answered him, “You know, America, there were people alive before you were born.”

“I know, and I feel kind of bad for them,” America replied, deadpan.  “Seriously, who is he?”

“You never met him,” England explained with a sigh.  “He disappeared about the time you were born.”

“Oh,” America replied, a little disappointed.  “What happened?”

“You can ask France all about that,” Romano added, his voice dull.

Pained, rigid lines formed on France’s face as he replied,  “Do you think I see that as my proudest moment?”  He huffed.  “Holy Rome has been gone for a long time now.  I don’t know why you saw him in your vision, but wherever he is, he isn’t here.”

They walked in silence for a minute before America suggested, “Maybe you saw heaven, Romano.”

All that earned was a sigh in return, but Romano’s expression softened enough that anyone who knew him could tell that he had taken some comfort in the remark.

It was not long before they passed down the blood-stained stairs into the annex.  China noted with some amusement that somehow, it was even more of a wreck now than when they had first discovered it.  He stepped over the shattered remains of the door that used to guard the room where he and Russia had nearly lost their lives, and when he peeked inside, he caught a glimpse of the crumbled wall within and the ominous grandfather clock that ticked behind it.  He resisted the urge to run in and smash it himself.

“Hey, there’s that clock,” America whispered to nobody in particular.  He wasn’t sure what it was about the annex that made him lower his voice.  It was so alien, so other, as if the monsters had carved it out of the bedrock themselves.  Perhaps they had.

“Creepy,” said Spain, hurrying along past it.

“It’s not important to us,” England reminded them.  “Let’s get a move on before the others catch up.”

“You just want your vision back,” France teased him.

“You’re bloody right I do.”  In truth, every creaky floorboard and groaning pipe along the short journey downstairs had wound him up a little tighter.  England could accept a monster that he could face, but one that he stood no chance of seeing made his anxiety skyrocket.  

It was with great relief, then, that he heard the words, “There it is,” come from Spain.

“I can feel it,” said England, his sightless eyes growing wider.  For the first time since they left the shelter, he let go of France and knelt down to meet  the magic on the floor.  “I can feel its power, it--” He reached out a hand, and the next moment, there was a screaming burst of red light.  England’s body was being torn apart, crushed by a bookshelf; he was shouting his agony, crying from fear, and expressionless all at once.  His bones shattered, his blood leaked out onto the floor; someone was begging, someone was watching, someone was dying.

When England opened his eyes again, his vision was blurred, and for one second he feared that somehow, the magic hadn’t been enough.  But then he blinked, and the tears fell away, and he looked up to see France and America leaning over him, both quite pale.

“England?” America urged him.  “Come on, answer me!  Are you okay?  Are you hurt?  England--!”

“I’m alright,” he finally answered.  His throat was raw.  So he had been screaming, then.  “I saw…” He took a deep breath and wiped at his tears before he continued.  “I’ll have to thank Prussia and Canada the next time I see them.”

His words made it all the harder for Spain and Romano to see him crouched by that bookshelf.

France gripped his shoulder tight and asked, “You can see, then?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, giddy with the restoration of his sight.  He bounced to his feet and dusted himself off.  “I have all my strength back and then some,” he explained with a grin.  Finally, things were looking up.  “Not only do I have all of the other England’s magic, but Canada and Prussia gave me their strength, too.”  He grew somber, then, and looked from Romano to Spain.  “I’ll make sure they didn’t die in vain.”

Though Spain appreciated the sentiment, Romano just turned away and started walking back towards the entrance.  “It doesn’t matter,” he bitterly shrugged.  “They didn’t die at all.”


	20. Rebirth

By mutual agreement, Prussia, Japan, and Germany all helped carry Italy’s blanket-shrouded body down to the annex.  The others had gone ahead of them, unwilling to watch the procession.  While some part of them wanted to be bitter about being left to fend for themselves once more, the privacy such a small group allowed was something that none of them took for granted.  Here they were, Italy’s best friends in life, carrying him in their arms as one final act of fellowship between them towards an unknown fate.

As they made their way towards the clock, Germany was certain he felt eyes on his back, and while Prussia heard whispers in the halls, and while Japan, likewise, was certain there were figures vanishing behind distant walls, none of them spoke a word of these strangers, nor, in fact, of anything else.  They kept between them the promise of silence, that, when broken, required a very good reason.

It was in silence that they dared the monsters they all sensed to try to attack them now that they bore the weight of the monsters’ evils with them down the stairs.  The murmuring in Prussia’s ears resonated louder with each step until he could make out fragments of words that he was sure nobody else heard.  Though by the time the grandfather clock loomed before them they had not spoken a word, there was a clamor in the annex that none of them could ignore.  While only Prussia heard it, Germany knew of a dozen gazes, at the very least, boring through them, and Japan refused to look at the eyes that stared unblinkingly from the shadows.  

Much to Japan’s relief--and as much to his sorrow--it was still the face of his friend beneath the cloth when they uncovered Italy for his final task.  Now was the time.  Germany took Italy’s lifeless body into his arms, and took his limp hand into his own, and together they moved towards the ticking clock face.

When Italy’s hand nudged the hour backwards, nothing happened at all.

Nothing, perhaps, except that a profound sense of loss sprouted up within the three of them that Italy was never coming back, not in this life.

“This was a terrible idea,” Germany breathed.  Though his eyes were dry, his voice betrayed the immense strain of keeping himself together.

“It was worth a try,” Prussia gently countered him, though his breath was heavy with his own disappointment.  “Let’s break this damned thing and get out of here.”

Not a heartbeat later did a metallic roar rip through the air.  The three of them whirled around to see a small horde of creatures loping towards them from the entrance of the room as fast as their stumpy legs could carry them.  

Japan swore and readied his blade.  “I am afraid you all have come calling at a bad time,” he shouted towards the monsters, fury underlying each word.  “Don’t you understand privacy?”  He darted off to meet the creatures at the end of the room, and Prussia followed hot on his heels.

Germany lagged behind just long enough to lay Italy to rest on the floor at the foot of the clock.  He leapt to his feet in time to watch his brother stab a monster through its eye, and to see Japan duck under a flash of claws.  Panic clenched around Germany’s heart, then; his allies were surrounded!  There were six monsters against the two of them.  Germany charged forward with a battle cry only to stop in his tracks a second later.  All but two of the monsters had thought better of attacking Japan and Prussia and were headed directly towards Germany, cutting him off from his friends.  His whip creaked in his determined grasp.  If he had survived by himself before, he could do it again.  He braced himself against the wall of opponents, and when they came within range, the first crack of his whip resonated like thunder in the chamber.  

“West!” Prussia called over the pained screeches of their foes and the snap of Germany’s whip.  “Hang on!  We’ll be right there!”

“There are more of them!” came Japan’s panicked voice, and sure enough, three more creatures had materialized in the room.

Germany cursed and did his best to remain calm.  “We will not die here!” he shouted, swinging his whip furiously at the monsters that crept towards him.  Despite all his efforts, two of the monsters slipped out of his sight.  He finished off one of the beasts and whirled around, expecting nothing less than an onslaught of sneak attacks.  It came as a great surprise to Germany, then, that the monsters had completely ignored him and were instead gravitating towards the clock, towards Italy.  

He would be damned if he let them lay one grotesque appendage on Italy.

In a burst of rage, Germany hooked his whip like a noose around one of the monster’s necks, and with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, flung the beast into one of its friends, sending both monsters crashing into the wall. 

A flurry of shouts erupted at the end of the room, followed by the sound of gunfire, but Germany allowed himself not even a second to look.  A crowd of monsters was still closing in on Italy and the clock, and Germany flung his whip once more into the fray, hurling one after another hungry beast away from Italy again and again.  However, no matter how he tried, the monsters kept closing in until one got close enough to strike at Italy.

“Protect him, you bastard!”  A shot rang through the air, and the next moment, the monster turned to dust.  Relief washed over Germany as Romano finished off another two creatures before he fell to his brothers side.  ‘What kind of idiot fights with a whip?” Romano scolded him, angry tears burning at hs eyes as he cradled Italy close.  France and England were the next to come to Germany’s aid.  With a burst of magic, the last monster fell.

“I didn’t know I would be fighting when I came to this godforsaken place,” Germany panted out, indignant.  The others were beginning to sheath their weapons.  A calm murmuring filled the room, now, quiet assurances of safety and concern.

“That’s a sorry excuse,” Romano sniffled, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand.  He didn’t look at Germany when he said,  “Now take Veneziano back before anything else happens to him.”

Germany said nothing as he took Italy into his arms once more, forsaking the blanket he had been wrapped in before.  It was covered in blood and filth, now, and that wouldn’t do.  Japan and Prussia soon appeared at his side, as they had before.  They, too, were silent in their shame and grief.  They were the last to leave the room behind the rest of their party, leaving the clock behind them to tick another hour.  What did it matter, now?


	21. Visitors

It was Japan, after everyone had settled back into their little shelter, who had taken to wiping the fresh grime from Italy’s clothes and face.  He had volunteered, and to his relief, nobody had pressed him as to why, and he was left alone to fulfill his last duty to his friend.  “In truth,” Japan murmured to Italy’s corpse, “I still have a few things to say to you, if this is to be your last resting place.”  He was quiet as he dabbed at a drop of blood that had fallen on Italy’s collar.  “Now that the grief isn’t so fresh, I… I must admit that you have been one of my greatest friends, and I hope--” He coughed.  He refused to let his voice crack.  “I hope that I was able to give some of that back to you.”

Japan moved to wipe away a smear of dirt from Italy’s cheek, but he froze and squeezed his eyes shut.  He took a calming breath before he spoke.  “Italy, I am afraid these hallucinations are overtaking me,” he admitted, slowly cracking open his eyes again.  Just as Japan feared, Italy’s eyes were still wide, glassy, unfocused.  At least they were not black this time, Japan thought.  And his skin, although pale, was not grey.  Japan resolutely decided to ignore his vision and kept scrubbing away at the dirt.  “You always did have warm eyes,” he said, holding back fresh tears.  “Warm, and friendly, too--”

“Th--”

Japan nearly yelped in fright, and he began to tremble.  Seeing things that weren’t there was one thing, but hearing them, too--

“Than...ks, Ja...pan,” Italy croaked.

\--That was more than Japan could stand.  Without another look at Italy, he fled to find Prussia, who watched him approach with concern.

“Japan, you’re crying,” said Prussia quietly, so as not to embarrass him.  “What’s wrong?”

“Please,” Japan begged, thrusting the rag into Prussia’s hands.  “I need you to finish--my… my hallucinations--” He took a shuddery breath and shook his head. “I can’t.  I cannot do this, not right now.”

“Okay, Okay,” Prussia soothed him, walking him over to a stool.  “Sit down, and I’ll take care of him.”

Japan nodded and tried hard to ignore the others’ stares.  He let out a breath when Germany came to sit with him, concern written all over his face.  Germany wasted little time in asking, “Do you need a drink?”  

Japan shook his head.  “Do you?”

Germany considered the question for a long moment.  “No,” he finally answered him.  “I don’t think I do.”

“Germany.”

A questioning hum.

“Are you… real?”

Germany huffed and replied, “Is it that odd that I don’t want a drink?”

That only made Japan feel more ashamed than he already was.  “No.  Sorry,” he answered, clasping his hands in front of himself.  “Please, forget I asked.”

Prussia, meanwhile, had pushed down his concern for Japan and gone to finish the task at hand.  The first thing he did was wash his hands of the filth that covered them.  Certainly, he could not hope to properly clean Italy if his own hands were dirty.  And, if he were honest with himself, he might admit that the action did delay the unpleasant task before him.

With freshly scrubbed hands, he approached Italy where he lay on his crisp clean sheets.  When he got to Italy’s side, Prussia’s mouth immediately twisted itself into a frown.  Why were Italy’s eyes open? Had Japan done that?  How odd, he thought.  He couldn’t carry on wiping the dirt off him while he was staring at him, so the next thing he did was  brush Italy’s eyelids shut with his hand.  Much to his alarm, they snapped right back open.

“Pr...ussia--”

Prussia swore quite loudly and nearly leapt out of his skin.  This unavoidably drew the attention of the others, who had begun sending confused and concerned looks in his direction.  Prussia swallowed hard, oblivious to everyone except the one in front of him.  “Italy?”

Italy blinked a few times, and then he smiled back up at him.  “Hey,” he croaked.

“Oh my god,” Prussia breathed.  “Oh my god, you’re--” he yanked Italy into a firm hug.   “You’re alive!” Prussia laughed, tears brimming in his eyes as Italy weakly held him back.

The moment Prussia spoke, Japan and Germany were the first to his side.  Japan’s whole body trembled as Italy turned his head to smile at him.  “You look… scared,” Italy managed through the dry tightness of his throat.

Japan looked from Italy to Prussia, and then at Germany’s shocked face, and finally, he knew. He closed the distance between himself and Italy with a few staggering steps, and then he collapsed onto him, sobbing with such profound relief that he couldn’t contain it.  

Italy worriedly patted Japan’s back.  “Hey, why--”

His words were lost when Germany pulled him into such a tight hug that it winded him.  “You’re alive,” Germany said through his tears, more to himself than to Italy.  “You’re alive,” he repeated, shaking.  “Don’t--Don’t do that again.”

“Don’t do what again, Germany?”

A clamor of footfall heralded the arrival of the rest of their companions onto the scene.  Italy greeted them all with a bewildered little grin.

“Veneziano!”  Romano latched onto his little brother as well, burying his face in his chest. “I won’t forgive you if you ever leave me like that again!” came his muffled cry.  “Do you hear me, Veneziano? I won’t do it!”  Italy hugged him back, deeply confused, a little unsettled, but certainly not about to complain about all the affection, even if his clothes were quickly soaking through with tears.

There was hardly enough room around the little bed for the avalanche of embraces that followed.  France and Spain would have knocked Italy to the floor had four other people not already been weighing him down, and while England was contented with a tearful grip of Italy’s hand, America all but tackled poor Italy where he sat.  While Italy was smothered in affection he didn’t quite understand, Canada grinned from ear to ear and watched the reunion with tear-blurred eyes. 

Russia, however, stood back, leaning on China and his pipe.  While he was certainly touched by the scene, he could not see the joy past a thick, overbearing cloud of doubt.  “If something is too good to be true…” he muttered to China.

Immediately, China’s face went taut with skepticism, but if the others noticed this exchange, they took no heed of it.  Rather, they didn’t disperse from around the bed until Japan quietly reminded them that Italy probably needed to breathe, now that he was able.

“Italy,” said Germany, having had regained his composure.  “How do you feel?”

Italy gave it some thought and replied in his raspy voice, “I have a headache, and...I’m kind of cold.”  He rolled his neck and continued, “I’m really stiff, and my throat is sore, too.  Can I have some water, maybe?  And how… how long was I out after that monster…?” he asked, searching the tear-reddened faces that peered back at him.

A reluctant hush fell over the room.  “Most of a day,” Germany finally supplied when nobody else seemed willing to break the news to Italy.  “You… died.”

Italy stared back at Germany, uncomprehending.  “What, did you do CPR or something?”  He huffed a hoarse laugh and added, “Someone at least tell me who kissed me--”

“That monster that attacked you killed you, Veneziano,” Romano interrupted him.  “You haven’t taken a breath in hours.”

“What?”  Italy screwed up his face in disbelief.  “That… that explains my throat, but… no,” he decided with a shake of his head.  “I couldn’t have died!  If I had died--”

“I felt it happen!” Romano countered, blinking away tears as he spoke.  “Your heart stopped beating, and I felt the moment it happened!  You’ve been dead for hours.”

“I… Really?” Italy replied.  He stared into his pale hands, and suddenly, he smiled.  “So… So you found a way to bring me back, then, right?”  He scanned the room expectantly, grinning as excitedly as he could in his wobbly, weakened state. “You… You all worked together, and… and now we don’t have to worry about dying, because you found a way…a way to... right?”

The room stilled once again, and Canada took the moment to excuse himself, muttering something about water as he escaped.

Prussia coughed.  “We don’t know why you’re breathing right now, Italy,” he admitted.

“O-Oh.”  Several seconds passed, filled by the sound of the tap squeaking on and off in the kitchen, and then Canada’s slow footsteps back.  Italy quietly thanked Canada for the water, and he took his time drinking it.  “So, um,” he said, finding the stares of his companions rather uncomfortable.  “What did I miss?”

Conversation came to them much more easily after that.  Spain volunteered his story of how he and Romano had gotten stuck in a past timeline, which forced England to recount how he had lost, and subsequently regained, all his power and his sight.  America was quick to disclose the true nature of Russia’s phone calls, and how they had lead them to discover hidden clocks and unusual visions. 

Quietly, France asked if Italy remembered ever having ever made it outside before, and this gave Italy pause.  He replied that he simply wasn’t sure.  His memories, he said, felt fuzzy, far away, indistinct like fish swimming at the bottom of a murky pond; not at all the crushing flood they had been before. While he knew, roughly, what had and had not occurred, the details eluded him.  

Probably not, he decided.  He felt he would remember that.

This prompted a flurry of questions.  I saw him die, they would say; did it happen this way?  Do you remember?  Only you could know, Italy--did you die there, that time?  And the answer, more distressed each time, was I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.

It all stopped when Germany rather aggressively suggested that perhaps it was time for them to stop interrogating Italy and let him ask some questions himself.  Italy hesitantly peered around the room and asked the first thing that came to his mind: What had happened to Russia’s leg?  

Together, China and Russia told of their trial with the lever in the annex, and Prussia happily provided the conclusion.  Listening to his brother speak reminded Germany of the bedtime stories he used to hear.  “--and then, with a final blow, we finished it off, and it disappeared before it even hit the floor!” Italy was very impressed, and he was very much alone in this.  “But we still had a puzzle to solve.  So, with a great tug, I pulled the lever, and the wall came crashing to the floor! And when the dust cleared--”

France rolled his eyes. “Get on with it.”

“Spoilsport,” Prussia pouted. “We found a weird clock that we think is the one you used to start new timelines.”

Italy went very still.  “You… did?  What did it look like?”

“It was very tall,” Japan supplied. “Antique.  A grandfather clock with a pendulum and a rather large face.”

Italy licked his lips in concentration, and haltingly, he nodded. “That sounds right,” he said.  “I… I want to see it myself, just to make sure.”

“That could be arranged, after you’ve had some rest,” said Germany, but America couldn’t suppress a snicker.

“Well, you already took him to see it once,” he quipped.  “And he was in much worse condition then, so--”

“Haven’t we argued about that enough already?” Canada groaned.

Confusion seemed to have found a steady home on Italy’s face.  “What are you guys talking about?”

A soft sigh escaped Germany.  “When we found the clock,” he began, “it gave us all a strange feeling, like it was different, somehow, so we didn’t break it like we did the others.”  He bit his lip before saying, “We thought, if it was really the clock you talked about before, perhaps your hand could be used to turn back time.”

“We--er, some of us--thought that’s what you would have wanted,” said Japan, feeling rather unsure of himself now that Italy’s true wishes could be made known. “For all of us to escape, you included, even if we had to turn back time…  That is what you would have wanted, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Italy replied so quickly and so gladly that it startled even himself.  Had he meant to say that?  “I want us all to get out alive, and I… I mean--I don’t want any of us to go through this again,” he said, shaking his head.  There seemed to be a fly buzzing uncertainty into his ear. “But I’m glad.. I’m glad you didn’t forget about me, I… I think?”

“Forget about you?” Germany repeated, eyes narrowing.  “You were only gone for a few hours, Italy.  We could hardly forget about you.”  It was made very clear by the concerned glances bouncing around the room that Germany was not the only one who found Italy’s words strange.

“I want… I want to rest, now,” said Italy, staring into his sheets.  “I want to rest, if that’s okay with everybody.”

For a long second, nobody moved.  “You heard him,” Romano finally declared, sending the crowd meandering away with more mysteries than ever before.

Some, of course, wandered farther than others.  Those closest to Italy remained nearby, even as Italy drifted off to sleep. 

“I can hardly believe it,” Japan murmured to Germany, who couldn’t seem to stop watching Italy breathe.  “He’s… alive.  It is like everything has changed, and yet… nothing at all.”

“I feel the same way,” said Germany.  “We still don’t know where the key to this mansion is, and these monsters still want us gone.  I was just starting to get used to the idea that Italy was gone, too, but he’s awake now.  He even remembers us.”  Several seconds passed before he turned his gaze towards Japan.  “There’s something inside me, Japan, something that wasn’t there before, and it feels like…” He trailed off, pensive as ever.

Japan held back the first few words that came to his mind--relief, happiness, love--and let his friend think.  “What does it feel like, Germany?”

He thought for a long moment.  “I am… not entirely sure,” he sheepishly admitted.  “Maybe.. Maybe this is hope that we really can make it out of here.  Together.  I don’t know exactly what this feeling is, Japan,” he admitted. “But Italy is awake.  I don’t know how or why, but now...” A peaceful smile found its way onto his lips as Italy began to snore. “All I am certain of is that life suits him best.”


	22. Reflections

Italy awoke to the smell of something warm and savory wafting through the air.  He laid there for a while, letting his eyes rest and his body take comfort in the softness of the bed.  Being dead was exhausting, apparently, and his friends seemed content to let him rest for once.  He wasn’t about to pass up that opportunity.  Soon, however, his stomach began to cry out for that sweet smell that was simmering in the kitchen, and he knew his comfort was spent. 

The moment he swung his wobbly legs off the edge of the bed, Germany was right by his side, helping him stand.  “Thank you,” Italy murmured, leaning on him heavily.  His joints were horribly stiff, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to hold his own weight just yet.  “Something smells good.”

“Stew,” Germany informed him as he walked Italy forward a few tentative steps.  “France figured you would need the energy.”

A soft smile tugged at Italy’s lips.  “Good thinking.”

“Are you alright?”

Italy let out a sleepy little hum.  “I’m alive, right?”  He yawned and scanned the room as while they made their short journey to the kitchen.  Japan and Russia were locked in a serious conversation in a far corner while Prussia helped France scrub dishes clean over the sink.  There was nobody else to be seen. “Where is everybody?”

On a whim, Germany answered, “Maybe they’re playing hide and seek.”  Immediately after the words passed his lips, he paused, shook his head and added, “They left a little while ago to resume the search for the key and any clocks we may have missed.  Since the key wasn’t where you found it the other times, we’re assuming we will be able to find it somewhere else in the mansion.”

“Oh, alright.”  Italy frowned in concentration.  They took a few more slow steps before he said, “I feel like I’ve done this before.”

Their progress stopped as Germany turned to look him in the eye.  “Of course it does,” he said, his face creased in concern.  “Wait, you haven’t forgotten--”

“No!” Italy stopped him with a frustrated huff.  “No, I remember that I’ve been rewinding time.  That’s… that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.”  Germany, relieved, resumed walking.  “What did you mean, then?”

Italy shrugged and said, “It’s probably nothing.”

Moments later, France and Prussia came sweeping him into a chair and dumping generous spoonfuls of stew into a bowl that had been placed on the table in front of him.  “It’s so good to see you up and about again, Italy,” France gushed as Italy took the first shaky taste of the dish.  “It is good, isn’t it?  I’m impressed with myself, given how few ingredients there are to work with here.”

It was almost magical how quickly warmth and strength seeped back into Italy’s limbs, even after just a few bites, and he sighed with pleasure.  “It’s delicious,” he agreed, happily accepting another spoonful.

Much to Germany’s surprise, he, too, was pushed into a seat and presented with a steaming bowl. “Eat something, West,” Prussia instructed him.  “You’re the only one who hasn’t had any yet.”  With both France and Prussia staring him down, and the near-irresistible scent wafting up from the dish, he complied without any further prompting.

In the quiet that followed, Russia and Japan’s hushed conversation could faintly be heard.  “No, I agree,” said Japan.  “It is very strange.”

“Not strange.  Inexplicable.  Surely you understand that we cannot be too careful, given our predicament.”

A sigh.  “Yes, but what would you have us do?”

Italy frowned up at France.  “What are they talking about?”

France gave Italy a warm smile and said, “It isn’t every day that someone returns from the dead.”

“I, for one, refuse to look this gift horse in the mouth,” said Germany between bites.  Just loudly enough so that he could be sure Russia heard it, he added, “We have enough worries at the moment to be adding ones that we can do nothing about.”

There was a brief pause before Russia called back, “I would not say that there is nothing we can do.”  With great effort, he pulled himself up with his pipe and limped over to the table, Japan right behind him.  “As I was saying to Japan, there are many things about this mansion that we do not understand.  We do not understand the monsters that live here, or how time flows within these walls.”  He haphazardly dropped his cellphone onto the table and said, “We do not even understand how my own telephone works.  And now Italy has miraculously resurrected.”

Prussia huffed a laugh.  “Sure, it’s fishy as hell, but what are you suggesting we do about it?  Kill him again?”

“Of course not,” Russia rather irritably asserted, much to Italy’s relief.  “But we can keep an eye on him to be sure that he has not been returned to us for some malicious reason.”

“Malicious reason?” Germany repeated.

France was equally doubtful.  “What, do you expect the monsters had a hand in this?” he inquired.  “They are the ones who wanted him dead to begin with.”

Before Russia could defend himself, Japan cut in.  “You both have very good points,” he said.  “However, I do agree with Russia that it could not hurt to be careful, as long as we are this unsure.  I hope you understand,” he said with an apologetic glance at Italy, who nodded carefully in response.

“I am glad you see things so reasonably,” said Russia.  “It is only a simple precaution, after all.”

There was brief silence until Germany said, “I’ll watch him, then.”  He stared resolutely into his food. “We hardly go anywhere alone as it is.  If anything happens, I’ll be the first to know.”  When he felt the eyes of the others on him, he added, “Italy, you want to see that big clock, don’t you?” 

“Um, yeah,” Italy hesitantly replied.  “This food gave me a lot of my strength back, I think.  I’m not sure how good I’ll be in a fight right now, though.”

“Oh, you do not have to worry about that,” said Japan with a determined shake of his head.  “We will not lose you again so soon,” he promised.

Prussia smiled bright and said, “Yeah.  You don’t have to worry about those monsters as long as we’re around.”

Italy truly wished he could believe them, but he thanked them nonetheless.

“I won’t let them touch you,” Germany stated, frowning at the doubt in Italy’s eyes.  “I swear it.  By the way,” he said, turning to Russia. “Half of your pipe is a sword, isn’t it?  I would like to borrow it, if you don’t mind.  Just the half that makes the sword,” he clarified.  “I wouldn’t deprive a man his walking stick.”

“Is that so?” said Russia, eyeing him curiously.  After a pause, he pulled the blade from its sheath and presented it to Germany. “I don’t suppose I’ll be needing that for a while, but I will ask for your whip, and maybe an explanation, if you have one.”

A sly grin wound its way onto France’s face.  “What, is the whip not... cutting it?”  Prussia snorted, and Japan rolled his eyes, but the others seemed unaffected.

Without hesitation, Germany placed his whip on the table and took the proffered blade. “It’s not that,” he replied in earnest.  “The whip is a powerful weapon, certainly, but at the moment, I…” he bit his lip, staring down at his own reflection in the steel.  “I feel that I need a sword.”


	23. Exchange

“Can’t you see them?  They’re just like you.”

“Hiding.”  There was a horrible laugh.  “Hiding in plain sight.”

“Not hiding, visiting.”

“Don’t trust him.”

“They are more than they seem.”

The whispers that floated through the silent halls finally became more than Prussia could stand.  He focussed harder on Japan’s back, Italy’s footfall, Germany’s determined gait--anything to block out the voices.

Still, they whispered, “They’re here with you right now.”

Prussia swallowed and hurried to catch up with his brother.  “You know,” he said, wracking his brain for something, anything to drown out the voices, “you look like Holy Rome with that sword on your hip.”

“Do I?”  Germany let out a noncommittal hum.  He’d heard stories, of course.  Holy Rome, like Ancient Egypt or Ancient Rome, was just another story to him, another empire that fell to greed, soon to be a relic forgotten by the world.  It was sad, certainly, but it would happen to him one day too.  “I’ve been told we’re practically twins.”

“I will have to take your word on that,” said Japan with a cursory glance at Germany. 

“Holy… Rome?” Italy cocked his head to the side, his face pinched in confusion.  “You don’t mean my grandpa, do you?  He was a great guy, but I doubt anyone would call him holy,” he laughed.  “...Hey, why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Italy,” Prussia stated; stopping to look him in the eye.  “Who did you grow up with?”

“Austria, mostly.  Hungary was there, too, and my Grandpa, when he was still here.  Why?”

“Is there anybody else that you remember?” Japan pried as Prussia and Germany shared a concerned glance.

Italy shook his head.  “Should I know this Holy Rome guy or something?”

A strange sort of ache welled up in Germany, but he shoved it down as deep as it would go.  “Yes,” he said.  “Yes, you should, but that’s not important right now.”  He determinedly resumed their trek through the gloomy corridor towards the annex, and the others followed him in disconcerted silence.

When they reached the dark pit of the annex, Italy took one look at the blood and debris strewn all about the floor and let out a long whistle.  “This place is a mess,” he said.  “What happened here?”

“Only about a dozen fights since you took your nap,” Prussia teased him, kicking aside a splintered plank.  “The clock’s through here.”

Shrouded in the dense murk of the annex, that otherworldly clock still awaited their approach.  Broken, Japan thought, until he blinked and saw it whole. 

“That’s the one,” Italy breathed, approaching the clock for a closer look he did not need.

Prussia knew, then, that he needed to squash the voices telling him to drive his sword through the clock’s cursed face, though it did little to quell the urge.

Japan stayed close by Italy’s side, staring up at the clock with him as Germany watched from a distance.  “I hope you never have to touch this thing again,” said Japan with a shiver.

A ghost of a smile pulled at Italy’s lips.  “It wouldn’t be so bad if I had to.”

Japan frowned at the clock.  “What do you mean?”

“Staying here forever,” said Italy, his voice distant.  “Locked away from the troubles of the world, time at my fingertips, my friends at my side…” 

Italy let his words hang like dust in the air, and when Japan turned to look at him, his breath caught in his throat.  Italy’s eyes appeared as onyx in his skull.

And now Japan could only stare in horror as Italy raised his hand towards the clock, reaching, reaching--

“Italy.”  Germany’s hand was clasped around Italy’s wrist like iron, and his gaze was just as steely.

Italy blinked once, twice.  “Sorry, I… I don’t--”  He felt bile rise in his throat at what he had almost done.  “Can we go... somewhere else?  Any--Anywhere else, please, just get me away from here.”

Germany didn’t loosen his grip on Italy’s wrist as he led him quickly out of the room, leaving Prussia and Japan to react on their own time.

“Prussia, his… his eyes,” said Japan, hugging himself.  “You didn’t see them turn black, did you?  That was just a hallucination, wasn’t it?”

Equally unsettled, Prussia shook his head.  “No, I didn’t see anything but I,” he swallowed.  “I’m not sure if this will work, but Japan, give me your hand for a second.”

Although uncertain, Japan obliged him and took his hand. 

“Listen,” Prussia whispered.  Instantly, Japan heard them.  A dozen voices or more all muttered faintly from the walls.

“We told you.”

“Destroy it.”

“Don’t trust him.”

Japan shuddered.  “Prussia,” he said, watching his friend with something like pity as the voices still swirled all around them.  “Do you hear this all the time?”

Quietly Prussia admitted, “They’re the loudest here, in this room.”

They stood together a moment longer before Prussia let Japan’s hand slip from his own.  Once again, he was left alone in the noise.  “We should go.”

“Right.”

They had almost made it out when Japan stopped in the doorway.  “Prussia.”

“Yes?”

Japan licked his lips.  “If you ever need someone to listen with you, I’ll--” He faltered and started again.  “You aren’t alone in this madness.  I know what it’s like to be the only one who… who sees these things.  If you need someone to witness it with you…”

“You too,” Prussia said simply, and that was enough to put a relieved smile on Japan’s face.  “Thank you.”

They found Germany and Italy waiting for them in the next room, peering up together into a dark, forgotten corner at a clock that hung high on the wall.  “We found another,” said Germany, readying a brick to lob at the lonely thing that ticked high above their heads.  “Are you ready?”

When the others gave their assent, Germany sent the brick flying.  During the brief space between the brick leaving his hand and its collision with the clock, he wondered if he would be forced to fight alone again.  However, he never got a chance to find out.  The breaking of the clock set loose a flood of visions into his mind.  He was cutting through monster after monster, but then there was Austria scolding a very young Italy.  His friends were being torn to shreds in front of him.  Italy smiled at him from beneath a white piano.  Another failed painting sat on a canvas in front of him.  Blood splashed across the floor in a sweeping arc.

There was a kiss goodbye.

“Germany!  Wake up!  Wake up!”

Italy was shaking him by the shoulders, tears streaming down his face.  Japan and Prussia were close at hand, trying both to wake Germany and to comfort Italy in his panic at the same time.  

Germany was shivering so hard that he nearly collapsed.  “That--I saw--”

“You had visions like the rest of us,” Prussia stated, holding both Germany and Italy steady.

Italy, meanwhile, was nearly inconsolable in his and Japan’s arms.  “You broke the clock and at first I thought it wasn’t the right kind of clock or something because the visions just didn’t come, but then you stood here like zombies and you couldn’t hear me, and I was--I was alone--”

“You’re alright,” Japan soothed him.  “You’re not alone.  We’re right here, Italy.  Right here with you.”  Italy soon quieted to sniffles and hiccups.

“So now I’m seeing things, and Italy isn’t?” said Germany, still shivering.  “What the hell is going on?”

Nobody had an answer.

“Come on,” said Prussia once they had all recovered a bit.  “We need to join up with the others.  The sooner we find that key, the better.”

So, together, they set off once more.


	24. Key

It had taken most of a day for the whole mansion to be searched.  They turned over every piece of furniture, lifted every rug, and peeked under every loose floorboard.  Moreover, they had discovered a handful of clocks hiding here and there, and they had smashed them all, enduring all the gruesome visions this process forced upon them. This would have been a tedious enough task on its own without the monsters they were forced to dispel every few rooms.  

By the time everyone gathered back in the safe room, they were exhausted and wounded, both mentally and physically, and still they had not found the key.

“More bad news,” France sighed as he cleaned a new gash on Canada’s arm.  “Our friends outside the mansion are in as bad a state as us, from the sounds of it,” he informed everyone.  “They’re pulling back to regroup and rethink their strategies.”

“So they’re abandoning us,” Romano stated, adjusting the bag of ice on his head.

“Regrouping,” France stubbornly repeated.  “They’ll be back in a few hours.”

America popped open a beer and sank into a chair.  “What does that even mean, anymore?  Time is so broken in here I’m not sure what month it is.”  From inside one of his pockets, the mochi creature--America had found the poor thing faint with hunger during their search--gave a chirp of agreement, content in the relative safety of America’s coat.

“It should be less broken now, at least,” said Spain with a hopeful wave of his hand.  “We smashed every clock in this building.  There’s no way we missed a single one.”

“Except the one in the annex,” Prussia corrected him as he wiped the grime off his sword.  “That’s the only clock left.”

“And what an odd one that is,” Germany muttered, pensive.

Italy felt a stab of guilt at the mention of that clock.  Though his friends hadn’t breathed a word of the incident to anybody else, he still felt that they knew, somehow, that he had almost taken them back to square one without a single reason.

A quiet thought wormed its way into his head, then.  What if he had done it?  Just like all the other times, he would follow his fate to the mansion’s doors, and he would go in and watch his friends die.  How many deaths could he endure?  Even still, would he even remember them?  He would become numb to it eventually, he considered.  They would never be gone for good.  He had become very good at fighting in all the time he had spent here, after all.  Even if the thought of being alone scared him, he assumed that he would probably become numb to that, too, eventually.  Time at his fingertips…  There was still risk, but that was life, wasn’t it?

He could become a god.

Across the room, Japan silently gripped Prussia’s shoulder and threw a subtle gesture in Italy’s direction.  They were the only ones who saw the total absence of light in Italy’s eyes.  The nothingness frightened them, but at least they were not frightened alone.

“I’ve been thinking,” Canada said, interrupting the quiet that had settled over all of them.  “The key was in the same spot, in that room with all the numbers, in every timeline before this one, right?”

Italy snapped out of his daze.  “That’s right,” he said. “I remember that much, at least.  Why?”

By now, the others were watching Canada with vague interest, and he couldn’t help but feel a little bashful as he continued.  “This timeline is different in other ways, too,” he said.  “Romano and Spain are here for the first time.  So are all those people outside, and we all made names for ourselves--not to mention that Italy came back from the dead.”

“What are you getting at?” China prompted him, interested in spite of his ever-growing weariness and apathy.

“Maybe,” Canada wrung his hands in his lap.  “Maybe the monsters know that something is different about this timeline, too, so they panicked and put the key somewhere where they think we’ll never find it.”

Russia huffed a laugh. “You think these monsters are capable of panic?” He leaned back in his seat.  “I would very much like to see that,” he mused.

“Y-Yeah,” said Canada.  “Maybe they are.”

“Alright,” England hummed.  “Let’s say these monsters did panic and put the key somewhere they think we’d never find it,” he said.  “Where would they put it?”

“If it’s in the mansion at all,” France reminded him.  “I must say, I am beginning to have my doubts.”

“Until we have some other hope, keep your doubts to yourself,” England told him with a frown.

“That’s just it,” said Canada.  “It isn’t our only hope.”  Now Canada had the room’s full attention.  “Sure, the goal is to escape using the key, but in the meantime, the thing that lets us keep trying to look for the key, even after death, is that clock in the annex.”

Germany crossed his arms and leaned forward, an intense furrow in his brow.  “What are you suggesting?”

“If I were one of these monsters,” said Canada, fidgeting in his seat, “and I wanted to make sure we never found this key, I would put it in the one clock we would never want to break.”

There was a heavy pause.  “Okay,” America quietly started, “That makes sense, I guess, but if we break that clock…”

Everyone looked to Italy.

“No.”  Italy gripped the bottle in his hands and wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze.  “No.  I won’t do that.”  He was beginning to tremble now.  “If I… If I lost a--a single one of you, I… I won’t!” he shouted, flinging the bottle to the floor where it shattered.  Several people jolted in shock, and for the second time that hour, Japan and Prussia watched with a shiver as Italy’s eyes turned black once more. 

“Italy, calm down!” France told him, setting a stern hand on the tense ridge of his shoulder.  “We’re only talking--”

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Italy spat back, an alien fury written on his face.  “If we break that clock, there’s no turning back!  Don’t you understand what that means for us? No!  Of course you don’t, you haven’t--” He gritted his teeth together, his chest heaving in his desperation.  His voice was deathly quiet when he said, “If any one of you touches that clock, I’ll never forgive you.”  

A deep chill hung in the air that froze all sound and frosted their hearts.  Canada was wishing he hadn’t spoken at all when Germany said, “Haven’t we agreed that this is to be the last time?”

The acid in Italy’s stare could have melted steel. “That doesn’t mean--”

“Doesn’t mean what?” Germany fired back.  “If this is truly to be the last time, that clock is of no consequence to us.”

“Funny,” Prussia cut in before Italy had a chance to respond.  “When I wanted to destroy it, you seemed pretty keen on keeping it around.  Isn’t that right, Japan?”  Japan couldn’t deny the truth in that statement, but Germany was more than willing to defend himself.

“Circumstances have changed,” he stated.  “We’re all alive, now.  This is the last time.  We will escape together, or we will die together.”  He shot one last pointed stare into Italy before he said, “No turning back.”

“I agree,” said Japan with a determination cemented by the monstrous eyes that filled Italy’s head.  “Whether the key is there or not, I refuse to let you go through this again, Italy.”

Italy glared at Japan, now, with those hollow eyes.  “I will do this again a thousand times if I have to,” he hissed.  His voice rattled unfamiliar through their ears.

“I have no doubt you are willing, but look at yourself!” Japan argued, returning his gaze with equal fire.  “You’re losing your grip on reality. How much more of this will you be able to withstand before you fall apart completely, and we are all lost anyway?”

“As much as I have to,” Italy replied, though everyone heard the uncertainty in his words.

China crossed his arms and said, “I hadn’t considered that point, Japan, but you’re right.  We’re running out of time.”

“No man can last forever,” Russia agreed.  “Not even a nation can last forever, and in this mansion, we are less than that.”

A war was beginning to break loose in Italy’s heart, and it showed on his face.

“Russia, I have to disagree with you on that last part,” said America.

“Naturally,” England huffed a laugh.  “Well?”

“Maybe we’re not nations while we’re in here,” America proposed, “but I don’t think that makes us anything less.”

A broad smile crossed Spain’s face.  “Regular people,” he stated, relishing the sweetness of the idea.  “If there’s one force on earth that’s lasted longer than any one nation can, it’s regular people.”

“We are all made of everyday folk, are we not?” France added, allowing himself a faint smile.

“I don’t see what that has to do with this,” Italy said, gripping the table in his uncertainty.  Japan watched in fascination as his eyes flickered in and out of color.

“I’ll tell you what it has to do with us,” said Romano, rolling up his sleeves as if for a fight.  “I don’t know how long you’ve been here,” he said, “but for the rest of us, it’s only been a little while since the meeting.  You’ve changed, Veneziano.”  Italy didn’t move.  “Regular people… under everything, that’s what we are, isn’t it?  But somewhere in this mansion, you’ve started to lose that.  You talk about death like it’s the weather, sometimes, and you’re losing memories of the people closest to you--you know, I wished to God you would forget that potato bastard one day, but not like you did before!--And every time you touch that damned clock, a part of you dies, Veneziano.  Sometimes the whole of you dies, and it kills me too!”  He sniffed and took a steadying breath.  “You know, I had my doubts, but they’re all right.  I don’t care if there’s nothing but dust inside that fucking clock,” he stated.  “It has to go.  This has to be the last time.”

Italy appeared to be swayed for a moment, but then he pursed his lips and said, “Are all of you really okay with the reality that if we break that clock, any one of us could die without hope of return?”

America was the first to say, quite certainly, “If I have to die so the rest of you can escape, I’m okay with that.”

“Noble,” said Italy, his voice cold, “But what if Canada died, or England, or France?”

This put a knot in America’s throat he couldn’t seem to swallow.

“And China,” Italy continued despite the growing unease in the room.  “Are you prepared to see Japan or Russia taken from you?  Japan, what if Germany or Prussia are killed before we escape?  Spain, France and Romano could be taken just as easily.”  For the first time since the discussion had begun, Japan watched Italy’s eyes return to normal as he said, “I may not be able to remember the details anymore, but I do know that for many of you, losing somebody who is here with you would be a fate worse than death.”

For a long, tense moment, Italy wondered if he had persuaded them not to break the clock after all.  However, Germany spoke again.  “Fate is not something I believe in, but none of us will escape death forever,” he said, pulling himself up to stand tall.  “The world is an uncertain place.  Whether death finds us inside this mansion or outside it makes no difference.  For you to continue to live in fear, alone...  I stand by what I said.”  He scanned the room, meeting every gaze, Italy’s last of all.  “This is the last time.  If I die here, I will have died fighting for what is right.”  

“Me too!” Canada abruptly exclaimed, earning him several surprised looks.  “Er, I mean… It’s not like I really want to die, but like America said, if even one of us gets to go home... just, try not forget about me when I’m gone.”

“He’s right,” China joined in.  “At this point, I’d accept an early death over letting these monsters treat us like rats in a box.”

Russia smiled at that.  “You know,” he said, “Of all the times I’ve spoken with myself, I haven’t once been connected with myself from a timeline later than this one, as far as I can tell, which means I either escape from here or die trying.”

“Or maybe your future self lost your phone,” China teased him.

“Either way, my choice is made,” Russia answered.

France huffed a laugh and said, “I suppose mine is as well.  My only request is a funeral as beautiful as me.”

“Right, so we’ll hold it in a dump,” said England with a wry grin.

“If those are your standards, mon cher,” replied France, inspecting his fingernails, “Then I insist that it be held at your house.”

“Eugh, I’ll die first, thanks,” he replied, a glint in his eye.  “In all seriousness, I suppose if I don’t make it… that’s better than staying here being a monster’s play thing.”

Spain nodded firmly and said, “Don’t cry for me if I go, okay?”

“I don’t know who would by crying for you, idiot,” Romano scoffed.  “...I don’t want to find out either,” he said, frowning.  “But if those ugly things get me, I promise I’ll go down fighting, and that will make it alright, so don’t cry for me, either.  I’ll hold you all to that same standard, got it?” he said.  “No going down without a fight.”

Japan chuckled lightly and said, “I think each of us has done enough fighting already to make ‘going down without a fight’ impossible, don’t you?”  This earned a lopsided grin from Romano, but a weak sigh from his brother.

“Is that it, then?” said Italy, looking more scared and vulnerable now than he had been ever before, even in death.  “We’re breaking it, even though the key might not be there?  Even though any one of us could… could lose every one of us?”

“Isn’t our choice clear?” said Germany, his voice softening.  “It has to stop here.”

All Italy could see in the eyes of his friends was determination, and with one shuddery breath, he nodded.  “Okay,” he finally said.  “Let’s get down there before I stop agreeing with you, then.  And one last thing,” he said.  “I think we should all go together.  If we do happen to find the key down there, We need to be prepared to run for the door after all hell breaks loose.” 

Nobody disagreed with that. With nothing more holding them back, they all gathered up their meager things--ripped clothes, weapons, a last dreg of beer, and lastly, the list detailing their future plans from the wall--and they shut the door on their little shelter, unsure if they would ever find sanctuary there again.


	25. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a long, heavy chapter ahead.

There was such power in travelling in a group of twelve.  Even though many of them were injured and weary, the few creatures they encountered on the trip down to the annex faded away easily when so many fought against them at once.  The little victories left them with a taste of invincibility on their tongues, yet as they gathered around the clock in the annex, they were immediately reminded of the grave task at hand.

“So this is what was behind that lever,” said Russia, limping in in front of America and Prussia, who had been holding up the rear.  At the head of their careworn band was Germany, followed closely by Japan and a rather reluctant Italy.

“It doesn’t look like it’s worth an arm and a leg,” China huffed, eyeing up the grandfather clock as one stares down a rival met in the street.  “Who’s going to break it?”

“You should do it, Veneziano,” said Romano, hugging himself against a chill.  “It’s kept you here long enough.”

“No, it has to be someone else,” came Italy’s immediate reply.  He was watching the clock now as though it might reach out and bite him.  “I don’t want to go near it.”

Remembering what had happened the last time they had been in the annex, Germany was quick to say, “I’ll get it,” and draw his borrowed blade.

Italy twitched to stop him, but before he could even take a step, Japan had already grabbed his arm.  A shiver raced through Italy’s body, and he squeezed his eyes shut, choosing to focus on Japan’s reassuring presence at his side rather than what was about to take place, rather than the sickly voice inside him demanding that he turn back the hands on the clock before it was too late to go back.

After a tense beat, Germany swung at the clock with all his might.  A metallic thud reverberated through the room, followed by a clatter, and Italy’s eyes snapped back open to see Germany sprawled out at the clock’s foot, his sword having been flung to the ground beside him.

“It didn’t break,” Germany huffed, getting back to his feet with a grunt.

“No kidding,” America snorted.  “Here, let me try--” The whole group dived to the floor in a panic the moment America started emptying a cartridge of bullets into the clock.  When the deafening gunfire ceased, the clock still stood unscathed, surrounded by a spray of limp bullets.

“What the hell, America?” Japan shouted over the ringing in his ears.

“Oh, come on!” America whined.  “That things should have thirty holes in it by now!”

Italy let out a quiet breath.  “Maybe we can’t break it after all,” he suggested, a hint of hope in his voice.

“Hang on,” said England, climbing slowly to his feet. “There’s one last thing we can try,” he said, and Italy wilted slightly.  “Why don’t we all attack it together?  I know it sounds silly, but we can share our strength if we all link hands.”

Almost instantly, Prussia and Japan grew skittish.  “Is that really necessary?” Prussia hesitantly asked.

“Look, if all our powers combined can’t wipe that clock off the map, I don’t know what else will,” England sighed.  “I’ll blast it with magic, but you all need to lend me your strength.  So… Join hands.  Get on with it.”

There was a reluctant shuffling in the annex until Russia dropped his pipe with a clatter.  “Come now,” he said, grabbing China and France’s hands for balance.  “It is time to become friendly.”

The grumbling intensified only briefly before they accepted their fates and formed a chain.  Italy found himself fidgeting between Germany and Japan near the end of the line while the rest of them took their places.  The chain was completed when, after a last moment of hesitation, Prussia took Japan’s hand at the end of the line.

All at once, everyone heard the whispering in the annex.  A shiver raced down Germany’s spine--why did these voices sound so familiar?  Beside him, Italy froze in terror while several others began to swivel their heads around in search of the source of the muttering.  Suddenly, Prussia shouted, “Ignore them.  They never make sense, anyway.”

Now all eyes were on Prussia.  “What, are these the monsters?  You’ve heard them before?” Germany demanded, sending a bewildered stare down the line at his brother.  “How long have--” He paused, and a look of disgust crossed his face. “Italy?”

Italy shrank back, completely taken off-guard by the frightened faces turning towards him.  “What?  What’s wrong?” He stuttered. 

“Your eyes are black,” Japan calmly supplied, squeezing Italy’s trembling hand in reassurance.  “Because we are all linked now, you all can see my hallucinations, as well as hear Prussia’s.  As unsettling as it is, you should ignore it.”

There was a moment of silence broken when Italy coughed.  “You guys are staring at me,” he meekly stated.

“Erm, right,” said England, turning his attention back to the clock.  “Now if everyone’s ready, I’ll--It’s broken already!”

A murmur of shock spread through the group as they looked once more at the clock.  

“No, it’s not,” Japan sighed, weary.  “That is another hallucination.  Look again.”  Sure enough, the clock was whole.

“Destroy it,” several voices encouraged them.  Still others hissed in defiance.  “Can he free us?”

Italy couldn’t breathe.  He wrenched his hands free from his friends and balled them tightly against his chest, thereby breaking the chain and silencing the voices for the majority of them.  “This isn’t right!” he exclaimed, panting.  “Those voices are the monsters, aren’t they?  They want us to destroy it.  That means destroying the clock is bad, right?  We can’t listen to them!”

“Forget about them,” Germany told him with a certainty that did not feel his own.  Prussia shuddered as the voices hissed, as the voices cheered. “We made our choice without their help.  Forget about the voices,” Germany repeated, and he offered his hand to Italy, who trembled fiercely.  “If you trust us, take our hands.”

Italy looked not to Germany or Japan or anyone else, but  instead to the clock’s face.  Some clawing, screeching thing inside him urged him to take not his friends’ hands, but the ones ticking away before him, whispered promises of power and eternity and security in his ears. 

“Italy,” Germany implored him , worriedly following his gaze.  “We’re still waiting for you.”

For the briefest of moments, Italy’s hands twitched to take those of his friends.  Just as quickly, he snatched them up to himself again, cradling them fearfully against his chest.  “You don’t need me,” he said, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.  

“Italy--”

“Break the clock already,” Italy snapped, stalking briskly to a far corner of the room.  Though he faced away, they all knew his eyes were not his own.  “I can’t help you do this.”

A cold fury swept across Germany, but Japan reached out and clasped their hands together before he could go to bring Italy back.  The voices, they discovered, were laughing now.

“Give Italy his space,” Japan murmured despite the unsettling cackling.  “The power of the eleven of us should do.”

Germany said nothing past his disgust.

“Erm, right,” said England, fidgeting on his toes.  “If everyone else is ready…”  When nobody moved to object, he took a deep breath and gathered his strength.  Italy watched over a hunched shoulder, his heart hammering in his chest as a shockwave of magic jolted down the line.  Now each of their thoughts mingled with the voices, oddly indistinguishable from the rest of the noise as they became completely connected with one another.  Then, like a tidal wave returning to shore, the magic that had shot down the line came rearing back through the chain, gaining more power and speed with each soul through which it passed until finally, it came crashing out of England’s palm in a burst of blinding light that exploded into the clock with uncontainable energy.

They all screwed their eyes shut against the roar of light; all of them except Italy, who kept his eyes fixed on the clock despite how they burned.  His heart skipped wildly in his chest as the light began to fade, every inch of him waiting, hoping, dreading--

The clock stood unbroken.

He let out a breath.

“Well, damn,” England sighed.  “If that didn’t break it, it can’t be broken.”

Italy stared at the clock, knowing that wasn’t true.  The clock had one master, and he knew who that was.

“What do we do now?” Canada asked, bringing forth a chorus of uncertain murmuring as the attention folded inwards, away from the clock, away from Italy.

Italy heard none of it.  No, only one voice called out to him, unrivaled by the rest.  Slowly, he stepped towards the clock.

“We cannot afford to search this whole mansion again!” France exclaimed.  “Look what the first sweep took out of us!”

“We can rest first,” Japan haltingly suggested.  “Bide our time until those outside--”

“--They’re struggling, too!” England groaned.  “And these wounds of ours are bound to get infected if we can’t treat them soon--”

Italy hated that wretched clock, hated it even more the shorter the distance grew between him and it.  No, something inside him whispered, he needed it.

He reached up towards its face.

Tick, tick, tick.

Germany was yelling his name, having noticed too late, shouting at him to stop, running to make him stop.

The clock never stopped.

Italy wouldn’t, either.

In a single motion, Italy pulled back his fist and drove it through the clock’s face, destroying it.

There was a tremendous roar as though the air itself was shattering, light bursting through the cracks until the room was bathed in suffocating white.  Time seemed to come to a brilliant, stifling halt, and then, all at once, they saw it--a single vision emblazoned in the white.

There was the mansion, laid out before them like a dollhouse, filled with people they did not recognize, and though they had not been told, they knew they had been there for decades, centuries, millennia, outside of time, outside of memory.  These people were familiar to them in only one sense: they bore the heavy souls of nations.

Their faces were unique, yet impossible to distinguish from each other, and each of them indescribably forlorn.  Several individuals wandered into the mansion over the span of centuries.  None of them escaped, but one of them did leave a journal before he faded in with the faceless crowd which was growing half restless, half hopeless, and wholly ensnared within the mansion and its grounds, wholly forgotten by the world outside it.  

And then they saw themselves enter the mansion, one group at a time, until they were all trapped there together with the restless and the hopeless denizens of the mansion.  Restless and hopeless alike faded as they flung themselves at the newcomers, some desperate to add to their numbers, others desperate to simply fade away.

Eventually, all but one soul had faded in with the mansion’s faceless, forgotten inhabitants.  The soul disappeared for a little while before returning with more newcomers.  The second time, every soul faded away, only to be replaced again and again until the mansion was bustling with the restless and the hopeless and the endless duplicates of the newcomers.  The soul that had escaped the first time kept coming back, darker and heavier each time as its lonely few duplicates brooded amidst the others.  

While the restless continued to reap and the hopeless continued to throw themselves into nothingness, some of the newcomers’ duplicates began to act.  One set began to connect its duplicates, one phone call at a time.  One set began to whisper secrets into the air, while another began to show hidden truths and visions.  One set of them even began to build onto the mansion a sanctuary for the newcomers.   

But the restless grew furious at these attempts to save the newcomers and tried at every turn to thwart them.  They threw their own taunting voices at the newcomers, their own curses and nightmarish visions.  It became a game that many of the forgotten souls intended to play for the rest of time, until they were either remembered or destroyed.

The newcomers had poured in for centuries, and though they tried to escape, they were inevitably forgotten and replaced by group after group of themselves, until finally, the pain of the heaviest soul became so great that it overflowed and cried out to its brother.

Souls gathered outside the mansion, then, and new ones entered it.  For the briefest of moments, the darkest, heaviest soul blinked out of existence, and when it returned, it returned with another bright soul that immediately flowed into one of the newcomers, completing it.  But this left the first soul hollow; so hollow that the shells it had left behind, forgotten and jaded, rushed in to fill it.

All at once, the light rushed out of the annex, leaving in its place an incredible, desolate darkness, and a cacophony of screams that did not fade.  At the head of it all stood the husk of the grandfather clock, split down the middle.  At its feet, Italy was curled on the ground, and in his bloodied hands, something glinted silver and hopeful--the key.

A gasp shuddered across the group, and the screeches grew to a deafening clamor.  In a blink, the room was filled with a hundred dead-eyed creatures staring them down.  For one tense heartbeat, screams caught helpless in their throats, and hands tightened around sleeves and weapons and others’ hands, and on the next exhale of breath, they knew there was no way through but to fight.

Like a boulder splashing into the still waters of a lake, chaos erupted all at once. The sound of gunfire and of blades clashing against claws joined in with the deafening screeches of the monsters that pressed in from all sides.  Not a minute passed before their own screams joined in with the bedlam.

Italy found himself being yanked to his feet by Germany, though there was a fierce steel in Germany’s eyes that he did not recognize, though he felt he should.  Their eyes lingered together for a single moment longer before Germany turned to throw himself into battle; one, it seemed, they were certain to lose.

Italy looked around himself, at his friends, at the monsters, at the blood, and it filled him with fire.

It couldn’t end like this.

But then England was shouting for America to cover for him, and that he had accepted his fate, and then France and America and Canada were crying out for him to stop, but it was too late--England had closed his eyes, and a blast of magic left him that was meant to clear the room at the cost of his own life.

Except, that wasn’t what happened at all. Two souls, red as blood, escaped England in the blast, and together they leapt from monster to monster like lightning.  They danced out of sight, but in their wake they left a trail of light.  Out of each monster they touched rose another soul, each soul so familiar that anyone who saw instantly knew who they were.  

Now they were staring at a sea of themselves mixed in with the monsters--the selves that hadn’t made it, the selves that still needed a chance to die fighting, the selves that still yearned to be free.

The two red souls came bounding back--very clearly Canada and Prussia--and they lanced through Germany and Italy before vanishing into themselves.  Germany began to glow golden, and Italy, a dark, heavy grey.  

Germany let loose a battle cry, one full of hope, full of victory, before he launched himself once more into the fray with his sword held high and a smile on his lips.  “The final battle starts now!”

In that moment, Holy Rome and Germany were fighting in unison.  They were one and the same, two halves of a whole, and everyone could see it; everyone except Italy, who could not see much past the haze that surrounded him.

Why did he look so familiar, Italy thought, and why didn’t he want to fight?  A deep, paralyzing fear washed over him.  He had broken the clock.  How could he have done that?  The clock had been his only hope, something inside him screamed, his only power, and now they were doomed. 

But was that right?  His friends were all fighting, and they weren’t alone anymore.

They had a chance.

Italy couldn’t move, though he struggled against whatever it was that held him.  The battle raged on around him, and the monsters cried out in rage at the remembered souls, and he still clutched the key in his hands.  He felt himself being tugged along through the writhing, seething mass of combat, but he couldn’t process any of it at all past his own struggle to claim control over the seething thing inside himself. 

He was jarred out of his stupor when he hit the ground.  America was on top of him, screaming out in pain and firing his gun into a monster that loomed just above them until it splattered over them in a spray of blood and dust.  When had they gotten up the stairs?  

“Japan!” America called out, pressing a blood-stained hand to a deep wound on his thigh.  “Japan, help me out here, buddy!”  Japan was there the next moment, his eyes alight with battle.  “Take the key.  Take Italy.  I can’t carry him now--” he shot and killed another monster that was racing towards them-- “I’ll make it, just go!”

Italy became vaguely aware of more shouting, and then being dragged some ways.  And there was Germany again, with that odd glow.  He felt that he should know it, though now Germany was carrying him, and Japan was running back into the mansion’s belly, slitting open monsters as he went.

“You’ll never win,” said the glow, and somehow, Italy didn’t think the words were for him, either.  “You won’t have him.  We have the key, we aren’t alone.”  He smiled triumphantly and ran a little faster.  “You’ve lost, and Italy will destroy you.”

Now the front door was in sight, and Germany had taken the key from him--or had the strange glow done it?--but now Italy was being propped up against the wall while Germany fumbled with the lock, and all he was fully aware of was a fury rising up within him unlike any he’d ever felt before, and it overpowered him completely.

They would be there forever, said the twisted, furious thing within him.  He would ensure it.

Italy felt his hand rip the sword from Germany’s belt loop, and in one deft motion, he plunged it into his back.  Sunlight was streaming in through the open door, and blood was streaming out through the wound, and suddenly the world became all too clear.

Germany collapsed to his knees, and Italy right there with him, and somewhere far away, Japan was shouting for them both, even as he fought away a swarm of monsters.  “Italy--?” Germany croaked.  He reached out a hand to cup Italy’s face.  “N-No,” he grunted.  “Now--Now it’s you.  But that thing inside you, the thing that--that took my sword,” he panted now, struggling for breath, and Italy was growing sick to his stomach.  “Wasn’t you.  Wasn’t--”

“Ger..ma...ny?”

A weak laugh escaped his lips, and his eyes sparkled in the light of the setting sun.  “No, not quite,” he said.  “You don’t remember me, do you?  But I suppose that will change when,” he took a ragged breath.  “When you leave this place.  When that thing inside you--when all those that have been forgotten are truly left in the past.”

Italy shook his head, tears falling freely, even as he felt part of himself leap in victory.  “I don’t un-understand.  You’re--You’re hurt.  I’ll… Germany, I’ll go back and fix the clock.  I’ll turn back time.  I can still fix this.  Don’t--Don’t--”

“That’s not you.”  He shuddered and closed his eyes.  “You don’t have to wait for me anymore, Italy.  It’s time I waited for you.”

Suddenly hands were on him, dragging him out the door, pulling, pulling Germany, too, and all Italy could do was scream that he needed to go back, that he could change it, that he had to change it.  The mansion’s door grew farther away, and they were running, all of them, for the gate, for freedom.  

The moment the last person made it through the gate, memory came flooding back into Italy.  The sickly haze that had surrounded him faded into dust, and with it, the last glow of Holy Rome's soul disappeared from Germany's body.  He saw nothing else before his memories, the mansion, and everything around him fell into darkness.


	26. Epilogue

****

Even without the mansion’s walls binding them together, each of them found it very difficult indeed to go their separate ways.  It was decided rather quickly that Germany and Italy would be taken to Japan’s house to recover, which of course meant that Prussia and Romano followed right behind them.  China then decided that Japan was far too exhausted to be able to sufficiently care for Italy and Germany without help, so he immediately volunteered his services.  Spain, on the other hand, invited himself over to provide moral support for Romano and Prussia as they waited for their brothers to wake up.

Upon noticing that Japan’s house was becoming somewhat crowded, France was the first to offer an extra hand in the kitchen, and England followed suit--though, Japan made sure to keep him busy doing practically anything else.  England soon found plenty of work, however.  As reluctant as America was to sit still for more than an hour or so at a time, Canada very quickly enlisted England’s assistance in getting him to rest his injuries.  It was more convenient for everyone, they reasoned, if Canada and America stayed with England at Japan’s house.  

Much to Russia’s dismay, Germany had been toted off while still in firm possession of his sword.  So, after a quick stop by his own home, he hobbled over to Japan’s house to claim the other half of his pipe.  The journey had him tired, and naturally, he elected to stay a while, too, if only so he could return Germany’s whip to him once he woke up.   

Those who had fought outside the mansion were not without their questions and concerns.  So it came to pass that Japan had the entire world popping in and out of his house for a few days with questions and doctors and fresh clothes and more questions.  This would have distressed Japan greatly had he not already accrued so many helpers that his only concern was finding places for all his guests to sleep.

By the time Italy woke up, only those who had been together in the mansion were still occupying Japan’s house, each sleeping soundly in futons scattered in every room.  When he opened his eyes, Italy found himself in the dark, save for the moonlight that filtered in through a row of windows.  This confused him greatly.  The mansion had never looked like this, he thought.  He listened for the sound of the others’ breathing.  Only one set of snores pierced the night, and he closed his eyes in grief.  The others must be dead, then.  Why hadn’t he found the clock yet?  He had failed again, and the mansion felt so strange...

Slowly, it occurred to him that he wasn’t in the mansion at all, and that he had seen this room before.  How many years had it been since he had seen this place?  It took him a long minute to remember whose house it was, and even longer to piece together how he could have gotten there.  They had found the key, yes, and then things were a bit of a blur.  There had been a lot of fighting, he remembered, and his friends had helped him to the door, and then he had taken a sword and--

“Germany!” 

The snores next to him stopped at once.  “Ah,” said Germany after a beat, his voice strained and drowsy  “You’re awake.”

“I… I stabbed you,” Italy stated, horrified, staring at Germany in the pale moonlight.  “You’re… you’re alive?”

“You almost sound disappointed.”  Germany groaned and sat up, revealing bandages wound around his middle.  “I didn’t die before I left the mansion, so afterwards, I started to heal like any nation would.”

Italy sat in stunned silence.  “I’m… I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve survived being stabbed in the back,” Germany teased him.

Somehow, the joke didn’t amuse Italy very much.  “Germany, I...I don’t--I don’t know why I would--”

“It wasn’t you,” Germany cut him off.  “Not really.  Just like the person who talked to you before we escaped wasn’t me.”

Italy went very still.  “Holy Rome?”

“Holy Rome,” Germany agreed.  “You remember him now, I see.”

“I remember everything, now,” Italy slowly explained.  “I might have to think about it for a while, but it’s all…” he shivered at all the horrible memories he would have to sift through in the years to come.  “Do… Do you remember Holy Rome?”

“Yes,” Germany answered simply.  “He left me with his memories, and some of mine, too, it seems”

Italy’s heart skipped a beat.  “All... of his memories?”

“All of them.”

There was nothing Italy could think to say, except, “Oh.”

A heavy silence settled over them until Germany said, “I can’t be Holy Rome--”

“I-I-I know!  I don’t expect you to be--”

“--But I believe he is a part of me that I had forgotten for a very, very long time, like the thing that was inside of you was a part of you you had forgotten.”  Germany took a deep breath, and Italy suddenly felt it hard to breathe.  “Italy,” he said.  “I’m… very sorry that you have been waiting all this time.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Italy rushed to say.  “After all,” he said, words heavy and slow.  “It wasn’t you.”

“No,” Germany agreed.  “But maybe from now on… it can be.”

The others were, of course, incredibly relieved to find that Italy and Germany had awakened, none more so than Japan, if only so his house could be emptied and he could have a moment of peace.  He finally got his wish, for only two days after Italy and Germany’s awakening, they had been taken home to rest, and everyone else who had been filling his house had followed suit.  The empty house left him with more than enough time to consider all that had happened to him.  If he awoke screaming several nights in a row, nobody had been around to notice, and if he still questioned what he saw, nobody had to know.

Russia’s leg had healed completely in just a few days, and his sisters had been more than happy for the chance to spend some time doting over him while he recovered.  At the first opportunity, he ordered a new cell phone.

It had been impossible to contact China for nearly a week.  As soon as the excitement at Japan’s house had fallen away, he had been left with a persistent fear of his own empty hallways, and every little noise had him jumping out of his skin.  As a result, he had elected to hide himself away for a while until the darkness stopped intimidating him so much.

Spain and Romano had found themselves similarly jumpy, though their paranoia had resulted in a days-long sleepover rather than isolation.  Likewise, France and England had practically moved in with Canada and America.  None of them would admit that they still feared losing the others, and none of them wanted to be alone.

Prussia had his hands full tending to Germany’s wounds, which gave him plenty of time to ignore the fact that every strange noise that sounded even remotely like a whisper put him on edge.  Germany himself seemed fine, except that on occasion, he wondered who he was, and who he had been all this time.  Neither of them could stomach beer for a while.

Weeks passed, and while the others had managed to regain some semblance of normalcy, Italy still suffered greatly.  He had stopped breaking the clocks in his house, but that was mostly because his brother had insisted they be changed to digital ones, anyway.  Every dream was another trip back into the mansion.  Some days he would wake up convinced that his nightmares were the reality, and that reality was the dream.

His friends had not let him suffer alone, however.  After Germany had helped explain why exactly Italy had elected to use him as a pin cushion, they had readily forgiven him.  Italy suspected they pitied him, which was fine by Italy, just so long as someone was always willing to sleep in the same room as him, even if he cried out in his sleep.  After all, he had found that waking up in an empty room would throw him into a panic.

Most nights, he avoided his nightmares by means of long walks under the moonlight.  Or, through a thunderstorm--it made no difference to Italy.  It had been so long since he had been free to wander outside that he had started to forget what rain felt like.

He spent his days in turns shutting himself up in his bed, wandering outside until he got lost, or clinging to the nearest person who could tolerate his desperate refusal to be alone with his memories.  Many days, that person was Germany.

The light returned to Italy’s eyes the day he received a long-awaited phone call from his boss.  The arrangements had been made, then, and the twelve of them who had been in the mansion together boarded twelve bomber planes.  Italy had never been fond of bombings, but he quickly decided that they could be very satisfying affairs, when done correctly.  

Together, the twelve of them carpet-bombed the mansion and the grounds surrounding it, reducing every horrible thing that remained within it to dust and smoldering rubble. That night was the first night Italy and many others had slept soundly since the day they had escaped the mansion.

Italy hadn’t stopped there, though.  He had bought up the whole parcel of land personally.  Whatever rubble remained, he had ordered incinerated.  On the grounds that had surrounded the mansion, he had orchards planted, vegetable gardens sown, fountains installed.  What remained of the swampland after the bombing had been converted into a series of ponds for lilies and frogs.  At the center of it all, where the mansion once stood, he planted twelve trees.  In the very center of it all, he buried the journal, and once the relic had been packed under several feet of dirt, he let the whole area grow wild with grass and flowers.

The renovation process had taken months.  Only when the place was unrecognizable, when it was filled with flowers and beauty and life, had he been satisfied.

One day, soon after the garden was completed, Italy called up Japan, and then everyone else.  They were going to Japan’s house, he told them, to laugh and spend time with each other and eat good food, just like they had planned all those months ago.  It was time they had a pic-nic, and he knew just the place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that. Thank you very much for reading this little work of mine, and I hope you enjoyed it! Please don't hesitate to hit me up with your questions and comments. I'd love to hear what you thought!  
> The next chapter will contain deleted scenes and things of that nature.  
> As a final note, this work's title is a reference to a song of the same name by the band Joseph. Please go look up the lyrics. They fit perfectly.  
> Thanks again!


	27. Deleted Scenes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What follows is a collection of things that almost were! If you feel like it, consider them alternate timelines and such. In the ten-or-so months I took to write this, there were a load of things that didn't make the cut, but these were the largest bits.

_ A brief list of plot points and scenes that almost happened: _

  * When Holy Rome and Italy were together in purgatory, I was going to have either Grandpa Rome or God himself come and tell Italy that he could wish himself back to life.  On that same vein, Grandpa Rome was almost going to strong-arm God into letting Italy live again, by merit of him still having a people.
  * The key was originally going to be stuck with Amerimochi.
  * In Chapter 16, when Russia and England are out in the safe room when China is taking a bath, it occurred to me that somehow, they had to have managed making tea.  Between England, who couldn't see, and Russia, who could barely stand, I was very much tempted to write out a cute scene in which those two had to work together to make it.  ~~I still might but shhhh.~~
  * ~~Chapter 16 was almost called Bath Time With China, but I felt that wasn't in keeping with the rest of the chapter titles.~~
  * I had intended originally for Holy Rome to be much more present than he ended up being when he came and shared a body with Germany.  
  * When I was brainstorming ideas for what to have Italy do with the mansion and the Steves, long before I had completely figured out what I wanted them to be, I considered having him either nuke the place or have Toni send them all to the moon.



_ From Chapter 17 _

It was no surprise to anybody that Prussia wanted to carry Germany all the way to the safe room himself.  Germany, however, was not a light man, and Prussia was exhausted.  It had taken him some convincing, but he eventually conceded to let America, with his extraordinary strength, bear him away instead.

Japan, though he tried to fight through the dizziness and the pain, simply could not keep up with the others’ urgent pace to the shelter and soon lagged behind.  He almost cried out in alarm when someone brushed by his side and begin to support his weight.

“Romano,” he said, looking to his helper with both relief and shame.  “Thank you.”

_ From Chapter 18 _

He and Italy stood together in that warm embrace for just a few seconds before Holy Rome pulled slightly away.  “Italy…?” he asked, his face creased in concern.  “Why are you crying?”

“Huh?” Italy touched his fingertips to his face.  Sure enough, he found his cheeks to be wet with tears.  “I didn’t think I was crying,” he sniffled.  “I just got this feeling, all of a sudden,” he haltingly explained, eyes taut with pain.  “I don’t know where it came from, but it’s like a part of my heart just died, and… Holy Rome, it’s such a sad feeling, and it--it hurts,” he hiccuped.

“Is… is that so?” Holy Rome answered, his voice strained through his worry.  Despite this, he reached up to wipe the tears away from Italy’s face.  

Italy nodded and leaned into the touch, clutching Holy Rome’s hand in his own.  

“You’re terrible at hide and seek, Veneziano.”

Italy’s head shot up, and he tore away from Holy Rome to wrap his brother in a hug instead.  “When did you get here, Fratello?” Italy implored him.  “You’re… you’re not hurt anywhere, are you?”

Romano wiggled in his brother’s grasp.  “Hey, let go of me!  I’m fine!” he responded.  “What’s gotten into you?”

Watching the two of them, something clicked in Holy Rome’s mind. 

_From Chapter 25 (Note: Much of this is the same, but in the end I wanted to have Italy struggle much more)_

Italy looked not to Germany or Japan or anyone else, but to the clock’s face instead.  Something inside him urged him to take not his friends’ hands, but the ones ticking away before him, whispered promises of power and eternity and security in his ears. 

“Italy,” Germany implored him .  “We’re still waiting for you.”

The words seemed to tip a scale inside of Italy, and he finally took his friends’ hands in his own.  Though the voices returned that very instant, Italy’s eyes--much to everyone’s relief--remained clear.  “I’m ready,” he whispered.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” said England, nodding in satisfaction.  A shock of magic jolted down the line, and now their own thoughts mingled with the voices, oddly indistinguishable from the rest of the noise as they became completely connected with each other.  Then, like a tidal wave returning to shore, the magic came rearing back through the chain, gaining more power and speed with each pair of hands it passed through until finally, it came crashing out of England’s palm in a burst of blinding light that exploded into the clock with uncontainable energy.

_..._

The light faded out of the annex, leaving in its place an incredible, desolate darkness, and a cacophony of screams that did not fade, even when their hands fell apart.  At the head of it all was the husk of the grandfather clock, split down the middle.  In its center, something glinted silver and hopeful--the key.

A gasp shuddered across the group, and England, being closest, lunged for the key.  The moment his fingers grasped the cold metal, the screeches grew to a deafening clamor, and in a blink, the room was filled with a hundred dead-eyed creatures staring them down.  For one tense heartbeat, screams caught helpless in their throats, and hands tightened around sleeves and weapons and others’ hands, and on the next exhale of breath, they knew there was no way through but to fight.

Like a boulder splashing into the still waters of a lake, chaos erupted all at once. The sound of gunfire and of blades clashing against claws joined in with the deafening screeches of the monsters that pressed in from all sides.  Not a minute passed before their own screams joined in with the bedlam.

Italy looked around himself, at his friends, at the monsters, at the blood, and it filled him with fire.

It couldn’t end like this.

But then England was shouting for America to take the key and that he had accepted his fate, and then France and America and Canada were crying out for him to stop, but it was too late--England had closed his eyes, and a blast of magic left him that was meant to clear the room at the cost of his own life.

Except, that wasn’t what happened at all. Two souls, red as blood, escaped England in the blast, and together they leapt from monster to monster like lightning.  They danced out of sight, but in their wake was a trial of light.  Out of each monster they touched rose another soul, each soul so familiar that anyone who saw instantly knew who they were.  

Now they were staring at a sea of themselves mixed in with the monsters--the selves that hadn’t made it, the selves that still needed a chance to die fighting, the selves that still yearned to be free.

The two red souls came bounding back--very clearly Canada and Prussia--and they leapt over Germany and Italy before vanishing into themselves.  Germany began to glow golden, and Italy, a sickly grey.  

There was no time for questions, as the battle resumed on an even more incredible scale than before.  The monsters roared with hatred, jealousy and rage and launched themselves at the remembered souls.  Soon, they found that the souls were not, in fact, invincible, and faded just as their monstrous counterparts did.

“Don’t just stand there!” Germany shouted, launching into the fray with his sword held high and a smile on his lips.  “Fight like you mean it!”

In that moment, Holy Rome and Germany were fighting in unison.  They were one and the same, two halves of a whole, and everyone could see it; everyone except Italy, who could not see much past the haze that surrounded him.

Why did he look so familiar, Italy thought, and why didn’t he want to fight?  He felt himself being tugged along through the writhing, seething mass of combat, but he couldn’t process any of it at all. 

He was jarred out of his stupor when he hit the ground, America on top of him screaming out in pain and firing his gun into a monster that loomed just above them until it splattered over them in a spray of blood and dust.  When had they gotten up the stairs?  

“Japan!” America called out, pressing a blood-stained hand to a deep wound on his thigh.  “Japan, help me out here, buddy!”  Japan was there the next moment, his eyes alight with battle.  “Take the key.  Take Italy.  I can’t carry him now--” he thrusted the key into Japan’s hand-- “I’ll make it, just go!”

Italy became vaguely aware of more shouting, and then being dragged some ways.  And there was Germany, with that odd glow.  He felt that he should know it, though now Germany was carrying him, and Japan was running back into the mansion’s belly, slitting open monsters as he went.

“You’ll never win,” said the glow, and somehow, Italy didn’t think the words were for him, either.  “You won’t have him.  We have the key, we aren’t alone.”  He smiled triumphantly and ran a little faster.  “You’ve lost, and Italy will destroy you.”

Now the front door was in sight, and Germany had the key--or did the glow?--but now Italy was being propped up against the wall while Germany fumbled with the lock, and all was fully aware of was a fury rising up within him unlike any he’d ever felt before.  No, they would be here forever.  

He would ensure it.

Italy felt his hand rip the sword from Germany’s belt loop, and in one deft motion, he plunged it into his back.  Sunlight was streaming in through the open door, and blood was streaming out through the wound, and suddenly the world became all too clear.

Germany collapsed to his knees, and Italy right there with him, and somewhere far away, Japan was shouting for them both, even as he fought away a swarm of monsters.  “Italy--?” Germany croaked.  He reached out a hand to cup Italy’s face.  “N-No,” he grunted.  “Now--Now it’s you.  But that thing inside you, the thing that--that took my sword,” he panted now, struggling for breath, and Italy was growing sick to his stomach.  “Wasn’t you.  Wasn’t--”

“Ger..ma...ny?”

A weak laugh escaped his lips, and his eyes sparkled in the light of the setting sun.  “No, not quite,” he said.  “You don’t remember me, do you?  But I suppose that will change when,” he took a breath.  “When you leave this place.  When that thing inside you--when all those that have been forgotten are truly left in the past.”

Italy shook his head, tears falling freely.  “I don’t un-understand.  You’re--You’re hurt.  I’ll… Germany, I’ll go back and fix the clock.  I’ll turn back time.  I can still fix this.  Don’t--Don’t--”

“That’s not you.”  He took a shuddery breath and closed his eyes.  “You don’t have to wait for me anymore, Italy.  This time, I’ll wait for you.”

Suddenly hands were on him, dragging him out the door, pulling, pulling Germany, too, and all Italy could do was scream that he needed to go back, that he could change it, that had to change it.  The mansion’s door grew farther away, and they were running, all of them, for the gate, for freedom.  

The moment the last person made it through the gate, the sickly haze that had surrounded Italy faded into dust, and finally, he remembered.  The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the last glow of Holy Rome’s soul leave Germany’s body.


End file.
